


The Jock and the Swot

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: Hermione Granger is doing some light-reading in the library while Thorfinn Rowle is looking for a place to study for his NEWTS. Then they hear someone getting frisky behind the bookshelves somewhere nearby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlbinoPeacock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbinoPeacock/gifts).

> **A/N: So there I was, innocently scrolling through the DEE Facebook page when suddenly, bam. AlbinoPeacock threw down this plot bunny and I just had to write it:**
> 
> **_Probably a one-shot, could be longer. Thormione. M/E. Hermione doing some "light-reading" in the library while Thorfinn is studying for his NEWTS on the secluded part of the library, on one table and they are awkwardly ignoring each other. Then they hear someone having sex behind the bookshelves somewhere near (probably Antonin lol). Thorfinn just knew who it was and starts to apologize to Hermione for his friend but he notices that she is blushing AF and is surprisingly aroused. How you move forward from there is up to you._**
> 
> **So that's what this is! Lots of M rated smutty goodness to follow. I hope you love it AlbinoPeacock!**
> 
> **No beta except for Grammarly, all mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**
> 
> \-------
> 
> **Update April 2020: Because of sooo much demand, I expanded this smutty one-shot into a full-length fic! It will be 13 chapters when it's completed and every chapter except the last is written! I don't know what my update schedule will look like (especially since I'll be having a baby in the next few weeks...) but I'll be sure to continue updating about once a week. That's what I'll be sticking with for now.**
> 
> **Due to the update, I went out and got myself a beta. Thank you sooo much Fae Orabel for all your hard work on this chapter and the rest! There are some minor updates below, but nothing plot-wise. Just some grammar cleanup.**
> 
> **See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on below!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

* * *

Thorfinn groaned when he reached the back of the library, nearest the Restricted Section. Every table was full, it was a month before OWLs and NEWTs and Hogwarts students were certainly taking advantage of the last push before exams. He liked studying near the Restricted Section because the whingy younger years rarely ventured back that far.

Sighing, he slid into a seat kitty-corner from sixth year know-it-all, Hermione Granger. She had a veritable wall of books surrounding her. There were three or four open and she was scribbling quickly across a piece of parchment as she seemed to consult them all simultaneously. She didn't even look up when he sat down.

He shrugged, if she was going to ignore him, he could ignore her too. Besides, it was one of the few tables that even had space for another person to sit. Granger would likely not even make a sound for the next two hours while Thorfinn focused on his Charms revision. Charms was his best class, so his goal was to get the best NEWT on Charms and let the rest of his classes fall where they may.

He had only been studying for about thirty minutes when his concentration broke. At first, he didn't recognize the noise for what it was, just another soft noise in the bouquet of noises that filtered through the library.

"...yes…" the 'es' was a hiss drawn out to ridiculous portions.

"...'tonin…"

Thorfinn dropped his head to the book in front of him, making a dull thunking sound. Even he could recognize the mangling of his best mate's name.

The bookcase behind Granger began to rock and that's when Thorfinn knew for sure what was going on. The sounds of skin on skin and, _oh Merlin, was that_? He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud as he could hear how slick the witch Antonin had backed up against the bookcase was.

Chancing a look up towards Granger, Thorfinn wasn't surprised to see that she didn't seem to notice.

"Oh!" The shout was quickly cut off with what Thorfinn could only imagine was Antonin's hand across the witch's mouth.

Well, that did it. Granger looked up startled. She caught Thorfinn's eye, furrowing her eyebrows and he dipped his head, indicating that the noise came from behind her.

"...like that, please!" The witch at least managed to whisper that time. How Antonin even got a pass to the Restricted Section was a mystery to Thorfinn.

"Is that...?" Granger whispered, a bright blush blooming across her cheeks as she pointed behind her.

Thorfinn smirked and nodded. Granger's eyes widened as she focused back on the work in front of her, but he could tell that she was paying far more attention to what was going on behind her than to her books. He watched as she licked her lower lip and then bite it. Her eyes closed for a brief moment as she took a deep breath. _Almost as if she was aroused_, Thorfinn mused to himself.

"Granger," Thorfinn murmured, catching her eye again. "Sorry about that. Antonin's always been a bit of a dog when it comes to girls."

Granger nodded and Thorfinn was shocked when she eyed him suggestively, the blush still present on her cheeks. He didn't miss the way her chest heaved as she took a deep breath.

"...fuck…feels so good…don't stop…" The words were accompanied by a breathy moan.

"Quite the talker, isn't she?" Thorfinn asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Granger. He was pleased when Granger let out a snort of laughter.

"Shhh…" Antonin said from behind Granger, only serving to make Granger laugh harder.

Thorfinn stood quickly then, and moved behind Granger, trying to determine exactly where Antonin was, before removing a hefty tome and catching his best friend's eye.

"What do you want?" Antonin hissed.

"Putting on quite the show, aren't you?" Thorfinn asked.

"Antonin!" cried the witch he was fucking, who turned her head to glare at them both and Thorfinn put the book back. He turned around to find Granger out of her chair and watching him. Thorfinn shrugged, biting his lower lip.

"Well, I know I won't be able to focus again after that. Not until…" she trailed off, her eyes blazing a path down his body before catching his again.

"Oh really?" Thorfinn asked, stalking toward her. "I'm not into getting caught."

"Me neither," Granger said. She flicked her wand, packing up her books neatly and picked up her bag. "If you're interested, I know a place we can go," she said over her shoulder as she began striding from the library.

Thorfinn was not about to miss his chance of getting beneath Granger's skirt. Even if all she was offering was a snogging session, he wasn't going to pass that up. He gathered his things and followed after her.

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe what she was doing right now. She hadn't really thought that Rowle would actually follow her out of the library, but he did. And now she was leading him up to the Room of Requirement to do Merlin only knew what.

She hadn't been lying in the library, there was no way she was going to be able to focus after listening to Dolohov and whoever his witch of the week was going at it. It was so… forbidden, so hot. Even now, almost ten minutes later and five flights of stairs, she was still a little hot under the collar just thinking about it.

"Where exactly are we going?" Rowle asked as they climbed the last staircase to the seventh floor. "Not sure your housemates will take kindly to me if you try to drag me through your common room."

"Nobody is dragging you anywhere, Rowle," Hermione said derisively, turning around to face him as the stairway began to move. "You don't have to follow me, you know."

"I know, but how could I pass up the opportunity," he said, smiling wolfishly at her.

Hermione felt her face begin to redden and she turned back around to finish climbing the stairs. She knew she probably looked like a nutter as she paced back and forth in front of the tapestry of the dancing trolls. She smirked when Rowle sucked in a breath as the door to the Room of Requirement appeared.

"What in the bloody hell is this?" he asked in amazement as she wrenched the door open and invited him inside. "You Gryffindors are holding out on us."

"It's not just for Gryffindors," Hermione said absentmindedly as she took in the room that had been conjured for her. She'd been hoping for something like a cozy common room, but the room must have read what she really wanted because, while the front of the room looked a lot like the Gryffindor common room, there was also a huge four-poster bed that had appeared in the far corner. It looked exactly like the one she had in her dorm room, only much more massive. "It conjures what you need the most. You just have to think of it, and pace in front of the tapestry three times," she explained.

"So, uh, is that what you want?" Rowle asked, indicating the bed in the far corner.

Hermione's blush brightened and she dropped her bag on the floor, near a sofa. "Well, I didn't come here to study."

"No? What did you come up here to do?" Rowle asked. He set his own bag down next to hers. "If I hadn't followed you, what would you be doing?"

Hermione bit both of her lips, staring down at her feet. She was a Gryffindor, damnit, but still, the thought of admitting it out loud was very embarrassing. Rowle came over to stand in front of her, leaning down, trying to catch her eye.

"Wanking," Hermione whispered.

"What would you be wanking to?" Rowle asked. His voice was a whisper, too, and Hermione's breath caught as she finally looked up at him. Rowle was huge, easily the largest student at Hogwarts, and he towered over her. "Antonin and his girl?"

Hermione snorted a soft laugh. "Maybe at first."

"And then?"

"I like Quidditch players, you know?" Hermione cocked her head to the side, a small smile playing across her lips. "Those tight trousers, they're quite fit in their kits."

"I'm a Quidditch player."

"Mmm, I know," Hermione hummed. She lifted a hand and placed it on his chest. Rowle inhaled sharply. "A fit one, too."

He grinned down at her, his hands settling on her waist. "So you'd be wanking over me? In my Quidditch gear?"

"Maybe," Hermione said. "But then, well, I'd want to know what you looked like without the Quidditch kit, wouldn't I?"

"That could be arranged," Rowle hissed. He peered down at her and Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. She pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed herself close to him, pulling his head down to meet hers and pressing her lips against his. Hermione was surprised by how soft his lips were against hers. She wasn't surprised by how hard his body was as her hands roamed his chest, exploring what she could over his uniform. He deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue against her lips and she sighed, allowing him entrance.

Rowle wasted no time in stripping himself and her of their robes. He began backing her toward the bed and Hermione forgot her embarrassment, caught up in the moment with Rowle. She broke the kiss and began unbuttoning his oxford, placing a soft kiss along his chest with every inch she revealed.

"Little witch," Rowle growled, tugging her jumper up. Hermione lifted her hands, letting him pull it off of her. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and admired the huge expanse of skin suddenly at her fingertips.

"Quite fit," Hermione murmured, pressing a kiss to the middle of his chest. She could feel him preening above her, so she stepped back, and slipped out of her shirt and bra in one go.

"Fuck," he muttered, seeing her topless. Hermione grinned at him and slid her skirt and shoes off before clambering up onto the bed. She trailed a hand down her body, tweaking her nipple, and slipping it beneath her knickers.

"You going to show me how you wank?" Rowle asked breathlessly as Hermione's fingers began moving beneath her knickers.

She nodded, her face heating in a blush again, unsure if that was something he'd like to see. She was reassured when he groaned and practically ripped his trousers off, then toeing off his boots and socks before he, too, got up on the bed.

"These will need to come off for a more accurate view," he said, tugging at her knickers.

Hermione lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them from her.

"This is the hottest thing I've ever seen," Rowle said, panting as he watched Hermione twirl her fingers around her clit. She bent her knees, spreading her legs as far as she could to give him the best view and Rowle groaned. She smirked when his hand drifted down to the tent in his pants.

"You seem to be overdressed," Hermione said, aiming for levity, but she sounded a little breathless.

"You are a minx," Rowle growled, he shifted and slid his pants off, showing Hermione just how into this he was. Her eyes widened at the size of him._ At least he's proportional._

"The girls must like you," Hermione moaned, sinking a finger inside, slowly fucking herself.

"I do alright," Rowle replied, his eyes fastened to where her hand moved between her thighs. He reached a hand out, hovering it over her knee. "May I?"

Hermione nodded and sighed as his hand slowly, gently slid up her leg. She closed her eyes as his fingers found hers. She wrapped her hand around his and showed him what she liked. Gasping, Hermione's eyes flew open when one of his thick fingers pushed inside her.

"Like that?" he asked, leaning toward her. His other hand propped up his head as he lay next to her.

"Yes," Hermione hissed, drawing out the word and running her leg between both of his, attempting to get him to cover her with his body. Hermione used her free hand to explore his chest and when Rowle seemed to get the hang of what she wanted, she placed her newly freed hand on his cock.

Rowle grunted, his eyes fluttering closed before he leaned over her and placed a kiss on her lips. Hermione squeezed his erection, stroking him slowly at first, before building her rhythm to match the one he was using on her.

"Fuck," Rowle grunted, and Hermione pulled on his shoulder. He slid his body over hers, resting his weight against her, his cock heavy against her thigh. "Little witch, you are going to be the death of me."

Hermione snorted. "If you don't like it, you can leave."

Rowle dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing heavily. He murmured something that Hermione didn't quite catch. She raked her hand through his long, shaggy hair and tugged, pulling his head back.

"What was that?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. He shifted his weight and his cock hit her clit. She moaned and arched her back, wrapping her legs around his hips as he began a small rocking motion. His cock sliding deliciously between her folds, the head nudging at her clit.

"Never going to get rid of me now," Rowle said again. He swiveled his hips, bracing himself against her entrance and caught her eye.

"I'm on the potion," Hermione said, nodding at him and Rowle slowly slid inside.

"Godric, you're big," Hermione panted, feeling so completely full. Her nipples tightened as he continued making his way inside her.

"Sweet Salazar," Rowle muttered, he propped himself up, looking down to where they were connected, then back up at her. He had a grin on his face. "Not many witches can take all of me."

"You better not be talking about other witches when you're buried inside me," Hermione replied, arching her back and lifting her hips to meet him.

"Never," he groaned and together they set a pace.

"Oh, feels so good," Hermione hissed after a particularly hard thrust. She moaned and mewled as Rowle fucked her.

"Fuck, Granger, never took you for a talker," Rowle murmured against her shoulder.

Hermione huffed a soft laugh. "Should I be quiet?"

"Merlin, no. It's fucking sexy."

"Good," Hermione panted, arching up into him again. He surprised her then, by rolling them over so he was on his back and she was sprawled across his chest.

"Can't tell you how many times I've wanked to imagining you riding me," Rowle murmured, his hands gripping her waist as Hermione resituated herself. She propped her hands on his rock hard stomach as she rolled her hips.

One of Rowle's hands slid to the apex of her thighs and he began thumbing her clit.

"I'm definitely not going to last with you like this," he said and Hermione increased her pace as he flexed his hips from below. With his thumb teasing her clit, it didn't take long for Hermione to begin cresting toward the wave of pleasure she knew was coming. Her hips sped up, and she leaned heavily on his chest as her movements became more frantic.

Hermione cried out when the tension inside her finally snapped. Her back arched as she shuddered on top of him.

"Fuck," Rowle groaned, drawing out the one-syllable word as his hips snapped up to meet hers, chasing his own climax. His neck arched, the tendons tight as he came, hard. Hermione could feel the seed splashing inside her.

Hermione laughed as she collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her and she hummed happily. One hand slid down to palm her arse, slapping it lightly.

"Who knew?" he murmured into her hair.

"Who knew what?" Hermione asked lazily, already half-asleep.

"That the swottiest swot in Hogwarts was also the hottest fucking lay." His fingers were warm against her backside and Hermione found herself cuddling closer, pillowing her head on his chest.

"You've already fucked me," Hermione said, breaking off to yawn, "no need to continue the flattery."

"It's not flattery if it's true," Rowle rumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Hermione hummed quietly and dozed off.

* * *

Thorfinn was certainly not complaining that his arms were full of naked witch, but he couldn't decide if he ought to thank Antonin for the unexpected gift or not. Thoughts of Antonin led to thoughts of who else Granger could have fucked because that definitely wasn't her first time. And why did he care so much?

His heart twinged and he gasped in horror. Did he actually care about her? After one round in bed? She nuzzled her face against his neck and Thorfinn found himself wrapping his arms tighter around her as he eased her off onto her side. When he tried to get up, she reached a hand out to grab his.

"This was fun," she murmured, clearly still mostly asleep as she didn't even open her eyes.

"Yeah, it was," Thorfinn replied, pulling from her grasp and dressing quickly. He had a month of school left and then he wouldn't have to see her again. That would definitely help him get over her, wouldn't it?

As he slid out the door, with one last look at the witch sleeping in that massive bed all alone, all Thorfinn could think was that she looked lonely. His heart twinged again as he shut the door as quietly as possible.

He was lost in his thoughts as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room. It was when Antonin accosted him with a punch to his shoulder that Thorfinn realized he had left his bag up in the room with Granger.

"Fuck, what was that for?" Thorfinn complained, rubbing his arm.

"The fuck was with you in the library?" Antonin asked angrily. "Bridgit almost wouldn't let me finish!"

"Bridgit Manklesworth? That's who you were with?" Thorfinn asked. Manklesworth was the fittest girl in seventh year. A Hufflepuff, naturally.

"Do you know another Bridgit?" Antonin asked.

"But she did, right? Let you finish?" Thorfinn asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Antonin smirked then. "'Course she did. Where did you run off to so fast?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Thorfinn said shaking his head. He still couldn't quite believe it. Or the fact that he suddenly didn't want to think about Granger sleeping with anyone else. Thorfinn just did not get jealous. Just like he didn't do relationships. So why was he feeling that way now?

"Try me," Antonin asked, leaning back against a sofa and crossing his arms over his chest.

Thorfinn heaved a sigh and slumped into the armchair across from Antonin. "Ever heard anything about Granger?"

"Granger? That swotty Gryffindor who runs around with Potter? Sixth year?"

"That's her," Thorfinn nodded. He closed his eyes, a flash of Granger riding him made him hiss and snap them open.

"No way," Antonin shook his head. "She's way too prim and proper for you, Rowle."

"Not that prim or proper," Thorfinn said, grinning.

"What's that look then?" Antonin asked. "You look like you actually like her."

"Maybe I do. Salazar, maybe I do."

"Fuck," Antonin laughed suddenly. "One fuck with a swot and that's all it took to tame you? Fucking weak." He collapsed onto the sofa, his laughs drawing the attention of everyone else in the common room.

"Shut up," Thorfinn growled, throwing a pillow at his friend. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that you only get that look on your face about Quidditch and treacle tart, Thor. You got it bad for her."

Thorfinn groaned, tossing his head back against the chair he was in. "Don't I fucking know it."

Antonin laughed again and that's when Thorfinn knew for sure he wanted to see Granger again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to the loads of readers who requested a full-length story and kicking my butt into gear! Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

Sighing heavily, Hermione rolled over. She was sore in that tell-tale way that she knew meant she'd had sex with someone recently. She could almost smell him still and her eyes popped open to see the door to the Room of Requirement shut quietly. Pursing her lips, she glared at the offending door. It wasn't that she was surprised that Rowle had ducked out before she woke up, but she couldn't help the twist of disappointment in her stomach.

_Wasn't it wizards who were supposed to fall asleep directly after sex?_ She mused to herself as she rolled out of bed and stretched her arms over her head. Although, she had to admit an excellent orgasm almost always caused Hermione drowsiness. She dressed quickly, casting a Tempus charm. Merlin, it'd been almost two hours since they left the library.

She hadn't been entirely truthful with Rowle earlier. She _definitely_ would have been thinking about him while wanking. Lately, he was the _only_ person she found herself wanking to. Which she wouldn't admit out loud to anyone, but Rowle was fit. Really fit. She had been truthful about having a thing for Quidditch players. That one was at least easy to admit. Who didn't have a thing for Quidditch players?

Hermione took one last glance around the room, a smirk forming on her lips at the sight of the rumpled bed in the far corner. Just as she was about to leave, she realized she had forgotten her bag. _Excellent orgasms are causing forgetfulness, too, apparently,_ she scoffed silently to herself as she went in search of the missing bag. Not only was all of her school work in it, but literally her life's work was, too.

She spotted it near the sofa situated in front of the massive fireplace, but it wasn't alone. Rowle's bag was there too. She could take it with her and drop it off at the Slytherin common room maybe? Biting her lip in indecision, Hermione picked up her own bag and pulled its strap over her shoulder, she grunted when she realized the featherweight charm had worn off and re-applied it. _That would have to be the next one_, she decided. Featherweight charms should last longer than a day or two.

It was a Friday night, so if she didn't drop his bag off for him, the earliest possible time she would see him again would be Monday at breakfast. Meals on the weekends were optional for older years and they had extended hours, meaning he could show up for every meal and she still might miss him. She definitely wasn't losing any work time waiting around for him in the Great Hall — even she wasn't _that_ thirsty for Rowle — and previous experience told her that studying in the Great Hall never went well. Too many people there to ask her for help.

Finally making a decision, Hermione bent down and picked up Rowle's bag. She would make a pitstop at the Gryffindor common room for the Marauder's Map, just to make sure Rowle was in the Slytherin common room before heading down.

While the Room of Requirement was on the same level as the Gryffindor common room, they weren't connected by a shared corridor. Instead, Hermione had to go down to the fifth floor to the appropriate corridor and then head back up to the seventh floor. It was tedious, but perhaps the castle was designed this way to give the Room of Requirement more privacy. There was a dusty old lounge and a classroom that looked like it hadn't been used in centuries and that was it for this level.

It had taken her many years to get comfortable in the wizarding world, especially after her disastrous first few years, although Hogwarts had always felt like home. At the time, Hermione thought that befriending Harry and Ron after defeating a mountain troll was going to be the craziest thing that had ever happened to her.

Little did she know the dangers of being Harry Potter's best friend.

It was just by pure luck—Harry said so himself—that he defeated Voldemort in his fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione still thought it was shameful that Professor Dumbledore allowed him to compete at all. She had never forgiven Dumbledore for it, even if Harry insisted that Dumbledore was to be credited with getting rid of all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, including the one in Harry's own head. Since her fourth year, things in the wizarding world had calmed considerably. The revolution that never was petered out entirely. There was still a divide between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns, but the animosity that was present in her first few years of schooling had almost disappeared entirely.

Harry and Ron were playing wizards chess when Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and entered the common room. Harry was still attempting to beat Ron—although it hadn't happened in six years—he was ever the optimist.

The common room was crowded with Gryffindors blowing off steam after their classes for the week. Hermione loved the Gryffindor common room, it felt homey and safe with comfortable armchairs and couches, throw pillows and blankets dotted the room. Even now, at the end of May, there was a cheery fire going in the massive fireplace that dominated one wall. It should have made the common room unbearable to be in, but it was charmed heatless this time of year and just added to the cozy atmosphere.

"Can I borrow the map?" Hermione asked, sitting down next to them. They always left a chair for her free, even if they didn't expect her to be around. It had touched her deeply the first few times she had seen them shooing other Gryffindors away.

"Sure," Harry responded, making a mistake with his rook. Hermione wasn't good at chess, but even she could see that was the wrong move. She winced when Ron's knight bore down on the rook, slashing it in two with his sword. She would never understand their affinity for this violent version of the game.

Harry scowled as two pawns pushed his rook off the board and then returned to position. Grumbling to himself, he dug quickly through his bag and handed a blank piece of parchment to Hermione.

"You carry it with you?" she asked, then mumbled, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." She tapped the map and unfolded it, trying to get her bearings and look for the Slytherin common room at the same time.

"I used it earlier," Harry said absentmindedly, still surveying the board in front of him. Hermione glanced up to see Ron smirking at Harry. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, confident in his win. Harry was hunched over, studying the board, trying to figure out his next move.

"Tracking Rowle again?" Ron asked, turning from the chessboard and giving Hermione a leer.

Her cheeks reddened, and she nodded, offering Ron a smile that she hoped wasn't quite 'cat that caught the canary.' Although, her eyebrow lifted and she was sure she had just given herself away.

"Wait, did you finally shag Rowle?" Harry asked, slightly incredulous, confirming that she did indeed give herself away. His insinuation was concerning, though. Did Harry think she wasn't in Rowle's league? If anything, he wasn't in hers.

Hermione frowned glaring at Harry. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"I just didn't think he'd ever give you the time of day," Harry said honestly. "You're not his usual cup of tea if you get what I mean."

"Right because I don't have huge tits and blonde hair?" Hermione asked in her best Quidditch groupie voice. She knew what Harry meant, Rowle definitely had a type and she wasn't it. She wasn't fooling herself though, Rowle hadn't pursued her, not really. She had come on to him, knowing his reputation, and that he would be unlikely to turn her down. It didn't bother her, she'd been crushing on him for weeks, months really.

She wasn't stupid, she had known going into it that it was a one-time deal. But it didn't stop her from feeling just a little special, that she had gotten him to break his mold for her.

"Well, yeah," Ron replied. "Not that we aren't happy for you, but Rowle isn't known for shagging anyone more than once."

Hermione sighed, Ron was confirming what she already knew, while she could only hope that wasn't going to be true for her. Although, she tried to manage her expectations; it was likely that Rowle would thank her for returning his bag and she would never hear from him again. Honestly, Hermione was fine with it, she was glad she got the shag she did.

"You want the cloak, too?" Harry offered.

"No, thanks," Hermione replied, standing up. She had finally got the map oriented the right way and could see a pair of feet with Rowle's name on it, stationary in the Slytherin common room. Leaving her own bag, she slung Rowle's over her shoulder and headed out of the portrait hole with the map in hand.

_I'm expecting nothing but a thank you_, she thought to herself as she made her way down toward the dungeons. Her heart pittered at her, but she ignored it. Getting her hopes up for more than a thank you was incredibly stupid. And Hermione was anything but that.

* * *

"I still can't believe that you were with Bridgit Manklesworth, mate," Thorfinn laughed at Antonin. "You've been after her for years. What made her give in?" He grinned at his friend in an exceptionally good mood after his shag with Granger.

"Are you implying I can't charm a bird into my bed?" Antonin asked, raising one eyebrow.

Thorfinn snorted, nodding as he sank deeper into the sofa, all he was missing was a glass of Firewhisky. He was glad it was a Friday night and the specter of classes wouldn't loom until Sunday. Although, the thought of tracking down Granger for his bag was both delightful and slightly nerve-wracking as it tickled at the back of his mind. Thorfinn didn't particularly care for Gryffindors as a whole and knocking on their portrait, summoning Granger like a firstie didn't sit right with him. He frowned, he wasn't actually sure he knew where the Gryffindor common room even was. Somewhere up on the seventh floor, but beyond that, he didn't know. He'd never had occasion to be there, although he'd had a few shags with Gryffindors over the years.

A tap on his shoulder startled him, and he turned to see a small first-year girl with dark hair. He thought she was a Fawcett, but couldn't be sure. She whispered something without looking at him, her gaze steady on the floor, and Thorfinn frowned.

"What's that?" Antonin asked, leaning forward in his armchair, his elbows on his knees. "You'll need to speak up to be taken seriously in this house, Fawcett." His words were sharp but his tone was kind.

"Hermione Granger is waiting outside. Asking for you, Rowle," Fawcett said a little more loudly, although still rather quiet, after squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she still didn't meet Thorfinn's gaze.

"There you go," Antonin said approvingly with a small smile. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a sweet, handing it to the girl. Thorfinn rolled his eyes. Antonin was a master manipulator and always worked to get the younger years to like him by bribing them with candy. But with the amount that practically hero-worshipped him, Thorfinn had to admit his tactics worked. The girl looked pleased with herself and offered Antonin a true smile. She ignored Rowle entirely as she unwrapped the sweet and popped it into her mouth, skipping off to join her friends near one of the fireplaces.

The Slytherin common room always reminded him of home. The stone architecture, heavy mahogany furniture, and club chairs looked eerily similar to the study at Rowle Rock where he spent most of his time. There was a large fireplace on either side of the common room, not needed this time of year, but definitely necessary in the winter when the chill sets in. His favorite part of the room was the large window that looked out into the lake. The mermaids were frequent visitors and when he was younger he had always been fascinated with them.

"Yo, Rowle! Got a bird outside!" Malfoy shouted just as he entered the common room. "Looks like she's hot for it," Malfoy said with a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows at Thorfinn. His goons, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed as if that was the funniest thing they had heard all week.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes, Malfoy was the most annoying Slytherin he had ever run across. He got to his feet quickly though. If he wanted a round two with Granger, he oughtn't keep her waiting. Hopefully, she had his bag with her. Granger seemed the type to return property promptly. He didn't think too carefully about his thoughts of round two. There weren't many witches he engaged with on more than one occasion, but thoughts of Granger weren't willing to leave his mind any time soon.

A small twist of guilt curled in his stomach when thoughts of how and why he left his bag with Granger hit him. He hadn't even left a note for her, and while Thorfinn might be a cad, never committing to a girl for longer than a night, he usually had the manners to at least make that clear upfront. Although, Granger was bright. She had to know exactly what she was getting into by falling into bed with him. He hadn't even done the luring; she had.

Guilt somewhat assuaged, he approached the common room entrance and watched as the wall faded away before stepping out. Granger had her shoulder against the opposite wall and she was picking at her nails, a spare bit of parchment in one hand. Thorfinn wasn't sure he'd ever seen her looking so self-conscious and it charmed him. He smiled as he crossed the corridor.

"Hey," she said with a slight smile when she noticed him. She unslung his bag from her shoulder and handed it to him, shoving the parchment into the back pocket of her jeans at the same time.

Thorfinn took the bag from her, placing it over his own shoulder and deepened his smile. "Hey yourself," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. They hadn't finished shagging more than an hour ago and she still looked good enough to eat. He had a feeling if he wasn't careful, she might truly get under his skin.

Granger lifted one eyebrow at him and pushed off from the wall. "Right, just wanted to give that to you," she said, indicating his bag and turned toward the stairs.

"Wait!" he took two steps forward and grabbed her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. She stiffened beneath him and he dropped his hand quickly.

"Yes?" she asked when she turned back around to face him. She bit her lip and had that damned eyebrow raised again. He wanted to reach out and smooth that eyebrow back down but restrained himself.

She looked entirely kissable with her pillowy bottom lip between her teeth that before Thorfinn could think too much about it, he bent forward and placed a kiss on her lips. She inhaled sharply before leaning ever so slightly into the kiss. It was completely chaste, but it didn't stop his heart from galloping, or his cock from twitching. Coming to his senses, he pulled back and offered her another bright smile. "Thanks."

"For the shag or bringing your bag back?" Granger asked, her lips twitched upward and her eyes danced with laughter.

Her words startled Thorfinn into a snort of amusement. "Both, I guess," he said, feeling a bit of shame. Since when did he thank girls for shags? Usually, it was the other way around. Granger did things to him that he didn't think he liked, and yet… he felt drawn to her.

Granger rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, Rowle." Then she shook her head slightly, still looking amused and turned around and walked away. She had a truly magnificent bum, her jeans hugged her curves perfectly.

Thorfinn frowned. That was not how he expected that interaction to go. Did he do something wrong? While Granger wasn't the typical bird he chose to shag, usually all birds were up for more flirting. He definitely didn't like the way she seemingly dismissed him. It irked him. He was the dismisser, not the other way around.

"Hey!" he shouted after her.

"Yeah?" She turned around and walked backward slowly. Thorfinn didn't want to think about what her actions meant. He just knew that he didn't like the way she'd said his name.

"Call me Thorfinn," he said after a long pause. He immediately felt like kicking himself. '_Call me Thorfinn_?' What kind of flirting was that? Either Granger had truly scrambled his brains or he was losing his touch.

Apparently, Granger didn't mind it, though, because she smiled brightly. "Sure, Thorfinn," she drawled and sent him a wink before turning back around. She was practically at the stairs now and Thorfinn stood watching her.

"Oh, Salazar," Antonin said. He had come to look for Thorfinn after he didn't come back into the common room. "You've got it bad."

"Yeah," Thorfinn said absentmindedly as he watched the stairway Granger began climbing. If anything, her arse looked even better when she was climbing stairs than when she was walking.

"She's got a nice bum," Antonin commented, his head cocked to one side as Granger's nice bum slid out of view.

"Hey," Thorfinn said with a frown. He slapped his hand out, hitting Antonin in the shoulder. "Stop looking at her bum."

Antonin rolled his eyes. "While this has been fun and enlightening, it's time for me to make my departure."

"Departure? I thought we were going to drink the other half of that bottle of Firewhisky and tell bawdy jokes to the second years tonight?"

"No can do," Antonin replied, backing away in the opposite direction Granger had gone. In the direction of the Hufflepuff common room. "Bridgit," he said grinning, "she's insatiable." In imitation of Granger, he winked and turned back around, sauntering off.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes and sighed. Suddenly, he was ready for it to be Monday already. At least, if he had school to focus on, he would be able to stop thinking about Granger. Delicious, gorgeous, responsive Granger. Well, even if Antonin wasn't going to be around for the Firewhisky, that didn't mean Thorfinn couldn't drink it on his own. He didn't care about telling bawdy jokes to the second years though, that was definitely more Antonin's thing than his. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he returned to the common room. His Friday night prospects just got a whole lot dimmer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on chapter 1 and Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

By Sunday, Thorfinn found himself thoroughly frustrated. It didn't matter what he was doing, Granger was in his thoughts. Studying for Charms, Granger's eyes were twinkling with laughter at him. Studying for Astronomy, Granger again, this time with thoughts of what she looked like underneath the full moon. Flying, Granger and how much she liked Quidditch players. And just who were these other Quidditch players she was wanking over? Working on a new move he was eager to show the Pride next month, Granger again, this time he was wondering what she would think of his new move. It was clear she was a fan of Quidditch.

Everything was Granger, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Which meant only one thing. He needed to get her underneath him again. Perhaps if he fucked her once more, then he could get the swot out of his mind completely. Usually, one fuck was all he needed, but perhaps a second wouldn't be amiss here. He hoped not, anyway, because he was bloody well sick of thinking about her.

Thorfinn stormed out of the common room. He had to find her. He had to figure out a way to get her out of his head for good. And on a Sunday night, he knew just where she would be. He didn't even bother to bring his bag as a pretense. He'd find her, he'd lure her out and to somewhere private, then he'd fuck her and she'd be out of his system for good.

Moments later, Thorfinn pulled open the door to the library. It was fairly empty for a Sunday night just before the end of the school year, but he knew Granger would be here. She was almost always here.

Madam Pince glared at him, but he just gave her his brightest grin and waltzed past, heading toward the back of the library. He knew where Granger liked to study after all. He wasn't surprised when he found her. She was at a table in the very back corner, the table itself was pressed against the wall, and she had her feet up on the chair opposite, with a book propped up. She was reading it and chewing on a sugar quill at the same time. She hadn't noticed him, which gave Thorfinn all the time he needed to study her.

She was bloody gorgeous, her dark, coffee-colored curls hung halfway down her back and she had at least one quill stuck in her hair. She wasn't wearing her uniform or robes, but, given the warm weather, was in a sundress. The hem rode up her golden legs to an almost indecent extent.

Thorfinn took a deep breath and slid into the seat next to her. "Don't you do anything other than study?"

"Exams are in a month, Rowle. I intend to be prepared," she answered absentmindedly. She didn't even bother to look up at him. She was so engrossed in what she was reading. He leaned over to see what it was, but it appeared to be in Ancient Greek and he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"It's not even your OWL or NEWT year," he replied.

Granger frowned, finally meeting his eye for a moment. "That doesn't mean they aren't important. Education is the foundation for the rest of your life. If you don't want to be stuck as a Ministry drone, you'd do well to study hard, too."

"Eh, I've already been recruited by the Pride," Thorfinn said with a shrug.

"First string?" Granger asked, raising one eyebrow. Thorfinn found he liked that she raised one eyebrow at him. Made her look cheeky. No girl ever cared enough to be cheeky with him, they all just wanted the same thing, which usually was also what he wanted, too.

"You know it, love," he said with a slight leer, raising one eyebrow back at her.

Granger smiled then. A bright, beatific grin that did things to Thorfinn's chest he didn't want to think too hard about. "Good for you, Rowle. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Thorfinn said, grinning back at her. He slid an arm around her shoulders. "Though I told you to call me Thorfinn," he said, his voice low as he leaned toward her.

"Right, sorry, Thorfinn. What a mouthful," she replied, leaning back toward the wall behind her.

Thorfinn raised his eyebrow at her again. "As if Hermione isn't any less of a mouthful."

Granger snorted her agreement.

"So…" he trailed off, leaning even closer toward her, their mouths just inches apart.

"Yeah?" Granger breathed, her eyes focused on his mouth.

"It's quiet back here." He laid his free hand on her warm thigh, just below the hem of her dress, and traced his thumb back and forth. He effectively boxed her into her chair.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked, forcing her eyes back up to meet his.

"Thought maybe you'd need a little tension relief," he murmured. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and placed a kiss against her neck.

"Not in the library," she hissed, grasping the hand that was on her thigh.

"There's hardly anyone here," Thorfinn said, placing another kiss on her neck. "And I didn't say anything about my pleasure," he whispered into her ear as his hand breached the hem of her dress and slid up her thigh.

Granger was done fighting it then; she removed her hand from his and buried it in his hair at the back of his head, all the while she opened her thighs and gave him access to her knickers beyond. She yanked on the back of his head, forcing him up from her neck and then slanted her lips against his. Thorfinn returned the kiss as he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck. She shuddered at the action, her legs falling open even more as his fingers finally reached her knickers and began stroking her there.

She panted into his mouth when his fingers slid beneath the cotton of her knickers. She was fucking soaked, and Thorfinn grinned against her cheek as she emitted a low whine from the back of her throat.

"Gotta be a quiet, little witch," Thorfinn murmured into her ear. "Don't want Pince to catch on."

Granger bit her lip then, her head falling back to the wall behind her as she used her free hand to tug down the front of her sundress, showing Thorfinn that she wasn't wearing a bra. He groaned and happily followed her direction as she pushed his head toward her chest. He placed open, wet kisses along the valley between her breasts, before popping a nipple in his mouth and sucking. He slid a thick finger inside her at the same time and she arched toward him as a hiss escaped her lips.

Her hips bucked against his hand as he set a brutal rhythm. He sucked on her nipple until it was red and stood straight out, then he began sucking on the other one. His fingers, working all the while. Thorfinn had to stay focused on her, on her pleasure, because if he thought about what was going on in his trousers for one minute, he was sure he would explode in his pants like a prepubescent boy.

"Fuck, Thorfinn!" Granger shouted in a whisper just as her cunt clutched hard around his fingers. A wave of slickness accompanied the clenching, so he pumped his fingers a few more times, helping her to ride out her orgasm.

When she slumped back against the wall behind her, he pulled her sundress both up and down, to cover her decently, before licking her arousal from his fingers.

Then without another word, he got up and winked at her before leaving the library. Granger was flushed and panting as she watched him go with glazed eyes.

* * *

"You smell like sex," Antonin said, bumping his shoulder harshly just as Thorfinn turned the corridor to the Slytherin common room.

"How can you tell?" Thorfinn asked. "You practically reek of it at all times."

"Perhaps," Antonin said. "Who was it this time?"

Thorfinn frowned, knowing if he answered truthfully that Antonin would razz him, and if he lied, Antonin would know. "Granger," he said quietly as they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"Again?" Antonin raised an eyebrow and whispered the password to the bit of blank wall. As it slid to the side, Thorfinn shrugged and followed him inside.

"I don't understand why you're bothering with her," Antonin said once they were settled into their preferred club chairs near the window that looked out into the lake. "Surely she's just using you."

"Of course she is," Thorfinn snorted. "Just as I am using her. Isn't that the point of all this? We use each other, gain a few minutes of pleasure and relaxation, and go on our way."

"That's not a girl you use. You're going to hurt her and she has powerful friends," Antonin replied, frowning deeply at Thorfinn.

Thorfinn scoffed. "Who? Potter? Weasley? She wouldn't set them on me. She seems like she's having fun too." He truly didn't understand how Antonin of all people could be so worried about this.

"Just be careful. You've only a month of school left and she's a whole year younger. Don't leave her with the wrong impression."

That made Thorfinn laugh. "Please, Granger surely knows my reputation. She won't be left with any impression except a good fuck."

Antonin eyed him for a long moment before changing the subject. Thorfinn answered absentmindedly. He may not be giving Granger any sort of impression, but what about the impression Granger had given him? He'd already broken his once-in-the-sack rule, and he hadn't actually fucked her a second time. He bit his lip and tried to focus on his friend, attempting to shove the brown-haired beauty from his thoughts entirely.

* * *

Hermione watched Rowle walk away with heavy eyes. Holy Merlin, that was incredible. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and panted as she came down from her orgasm. Rowle was well-known for not being seen with a girl more than once, so what in the world did it mean? He'd selflessly gotten her off in the library and just… walked away. Did he expect her to return the favor at some point? Not that Hermione was opposed to that, but while Rowle was very much the casual sex type, he was not the type to have casual sex with just one person. Rather, he seemed to prefer it with as many witches that would let him.

Her brow furrowed as she began packing up her books. Was it maybe just a thank you for returning his bag? Surely, that was it. There was no way he was indicating he wanted more than what they had just done. Although, he had kissed her after returning the bag. And thanked her. So if whatever _that_ was, wasn't for returning the bag then what was it for? Rowle was a Slytherin above all else, somehow Hermione couldn't believe that he would just get her off out of the goodness of his heart. It's not like she asked for it, hell, Rowle had come _looking_ for her.

Merlin, Rowle had come looking for _her._ Just what in the bloody hell did _that_ mean?

Knowing she wasn't getting any more work done, at least not in the library, Hermione finished packing her things and headed for Gryffindor tower. Rowle was all she could seemingly think about these days. He had caught her eye last year after hitting a major growth spurt. Not only was he the tallest wizard at Hogwarts, he was certainly the broadest, too. While she didn't like to fly, nor did she care much for the statistics and game theories of Quidditch, she did like the game. She liked to watch the players as they zipped around on their brooms, so far above everyone's heads. They were almost like Muggle ballet dancers with how fluid and beautifully they flew. And she certainly hadn't lied to Rowle, she really did appreciate a Quidditch player's form. Maybe it wouldn't make sense to a Muggle, but Quidditch really honed a player's muscles. Especially the abs.

As she passed an open window, Hermione smiled when a faint breeze hit her. It really was a lovely day. Perhaps she could convince Harry and Ron to head out to the lake with her. They would at least be enough to distract her from thoughts of Rowle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **I can't guarantee an update next Monday as the new baby arrives at the end of this week, but I will try to update as soon as I can (either next week or the week after).**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

The following Sunday found Hermione returning to the Gryffindor common room earlier than she typically liked, but again, the weather was too nice, the lure of sitting out under the sun was too much for her to ignore. Scottish winters were harsh and tended to last far into the spring. As a London girl, she was always ready for the warm weather much earlier than it ever appeared at Hogwarts. Dinner wasn't for another two hours, which meant there was plenty of time to pull the boys away from whatever they were doing and soak up some sunshine.

She had just passed through the Transfiguration corridor when a door opened beside her and a hand clasped around her upper arm, pulling her inside an abandoned classroom. As soon as she gained her feet, she whirled around to find Rowle smirking down at her.

"Listen, Rowle," Hermione began, pointing a finger at him, her brows pulled down into a frown. "I'm not some plaything you can just yank around. I'm a human being. If you want to speak with me, kindly do so without touching my person. Frankly, that hurt," she said, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her.

"Sorry," Rowle muttered, he reached out and rubbed it over her arm where he had grabbed her. "I won't give you any more bruises unless you ask for them," he leered, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and contemplated a response before rolling her eyes and turning to leave. If he wanted to act like a caveman, he could do it without her. She had better things to do. Like, go sit in the sun.

"Hey, wait!" Rowle rushed up behind her and reached over her shoulder, slamming the door closed before she could go through it. She could feel him towering over her from behind. "I thought we could have a little more fun," he said, his voice a low grumble that did things to Hermione's body that she didn't want to think about. Desire pooled in her belly, but she did her best to ignore it.

She was immediately suspicious of his motives and turned around to face him. Still frowning she looked up at him, his blue eyes were dancing with delight as he crowded her against the door at her back. She had a feeling he liked crowding her like this. More of that macho, caveman sentiment. She tried to ignore how much she also liked it. Nothing good would come out of a continued association with Rowle. She should definitely not be getting her hopes up.

"Why? Is there a bet or something?" That was the only thing Hermione could think of that would make Rowle want to sleep with her again. He was definitely the hit it and quit it type, so what in the world was going on?

"No? Why would there be a bet?" Rowle asked, confusion written across his face. He leaned a hand on the door above her head, and Hermione tried not to think about how firm his chest was. She failed spectacularly as it was right in front of her. As much as she didn't want to meet his eyes, she couldn't keep staring at his chest either. That was only going to lead her down a path she promised herself she wouldn't be pursuing.

"Gossip says you aren't interested in having a girl more than once. It's been twice. Logic dictates that if you're still interested there must be something else going on. If it's not a bet, then what?" Hermione asked. She tried to direct her eyes up to him, but as he shifted his weight, the muscles across his shoulders rippled and she found she couldn't take her eyes off of them.

"Eyes are up here, little witch," Rowle said in a teasing voice as he tipped her chin up with one hand. There was a devilish smirk playing about his lips, and Hermione still couldn't quite get her eyes up to his. His lips did look awfully kissable. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she remembered how they felt against her own. "It's been more like one and a half, anyway," Rowle said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Hermione huffed a laugh and bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. She really did want to kiss him, but what did it mean that he was back for round two?

Rowle made the decision for her. He dropped his arm from the wall and wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging her close. His other hand was still beneath her chin and he tilted her head back further, pressing his lips to hers. The butterflies in her stomach exploded into a frantic cadence as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders seemingly of their own accord.

After a long moment, her back bumped the door behind her again and Rowle had both hands gliding down her torso. His erection was pressed against her belly and he bent down, grabbing the back of her thighs and lifted her up until it was her core that was pressed against his length. She wrapped her legs around his trim waist, helping him hold her up.

"Fuck," Hermione stuttered as he rocked into her, hitting just the right spot at the top of her cleft.

Rowle groaned against her neck as he began sliding a hand up her thigh, beneath her sundress. His hand felt so large against her skin, it left pulses of electricity behind as it made its way toward her center.

Within moments, he had found his way and had two fingers pressed inside her.

"Rowle, please," Hermione begged, riding his fingers, but wishing it was something else.

"Thought I told you to call me Thorfinn?" Rowle panted, thumbing her clit.

"More, Thorfinn!" Hermione insisted. She tugged the top of her dress down, revealing her breasts and grabbed the back of Rowle's head, directing him to where she wanted.

Rowle did not disappoint. He placed soft kisses along the slopes of her breasts until he reached a nipple, licking it lightly before sucking it into his mouth. Hermione cried out and arched her back just as her orgasm ripped through her. Sheer pleasure burst in her veins as her hips stuttered to a stop against Rowle's hand.

A moment later, Rowle had his cock unsheathed and worked his way inside her. Hermione locked her ankles behind his back as he began a slow rhythm. Her back slid along the door as he drove himself into her until, finally, he was fully inside.

"Fuck, little witch," Rowle muttered against her chest, panting as she clenched her muscles around him.

"Isn't that the point?" Hermione asked, rolling her hips, desperate for some friction.

"'Course it is," Rowle responded. He pressed his lips to hers as he fucked her. This wasn't hard and fast like Hermione expected, but a slow rolling of his hips. His pubic bone brushing against her clit with every pass. His hands tightened against her bum as he pulled her firmly to him over and over again.

It wasn't long until Hermione was panting. His slow, firm strokes had her climbing higher and higher.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out across her skin as she began babbling. "Please, Thorfinn, harder. More, I'm so close."

Rowle growled his response, and while he didn't increase his pace, he began pumping his hips harder against hers. It didn't take too many of those for Hermione to peak. Her back arched and her legs locked tighter around him as she cried out through her climax. Rowle was right behind her, and when it was all over, he continued to hold her up against the wall.

Slowly, she dropped her legs from around his waist. "You can put me down now," Hermione murmured against his shoulder. Rowle grunted and slowly lowered her to the floor. She quickly fixed her clothes, averting her gaze as Rowle tucked himself back inside.

Picking up the bag she dropped, she gave him a little wave and walked out the door. _A wave? Really?_ She thought to herself as she made her way back to Gryffindor tower. Regardless of what was going on between her and Rowle, she still found herself being incredibly awkward around him.

At the end of the day, it really didn't matter what was going on between them. She didn't want to complicate things, and he was leaving Hogwarts for good in three weeks. It's not like she'd have much of an occasion to run into him after that. Even if nothing happened again, Hermione was glad for what _had_ happened. It was fun while it lasted.

* * *

She did succeed in luring Harry and Ron out to the lake just before dinner was supposed to start.

"Have you seen Rowle lately?" Harry asked, his back against a tree as he tossed a practice Snitch in the air.

Hermione didn't even bother lying; Ron and Harry were experts at sniffing them out. From her, at least.

"Mmm," Hermione replied non-committedly. She was lying on her stomach, flipping through a book. Even out at the lake, she had to have a book with her.

"What? Today?" Ron asked incredulously. He was sitting with his legs crossed, hunched over picking at the grass.

Hermione reddened and nodded, studying the book in front of her, but not really seeing any of the words.

"How many times is that now?" Harry asked.

"Three," Hermione said. "The first, the library last week, and then today." She tried not to sound too satisfied, but she was sure some of it leaked through.

"But that's over his personal limit!" Ron protested.

Hermione snorted. "He claims the second time was actually one and a half…"

"Because you didn't come?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hermione ducked her head and blushed again. "He didn't," she muttered.

"Ooo, look at you, getting your jollies off without reciprocating," Ron teased.

"Shut up," Hermione said, half laughing, half groaning as she threw a handful of grass at him.

"Still, I don't like it. What's he want with you?" Harry tossed the Snitch again, and it flew up around a tree limb before sinking back down into his lap.

"I should be offended by that," Hermione said, frowning. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing and you know that," Ron replied. "It's just that he's a very traditional pureblood. He's sowed all his oats, now he'll graduate and go on to marry whomever mumsy and daddy decide."

"I'm sure you're right," Hermione agreed. "This is probably just his last fling. School ends in three weeks after all." She ignored the twinge in her heart at that statement. Luckily the bell for dinner sounded across the grounds, and she was saved from answering any further questions by Ron pulling her up and insisting they race to the doors.

* * *

Thorfinn hated it when Antonin was right. Granger was definitely getting under his skin, and he had no idea what it was about her that he even liked. Sure, she was gorgeous and fucking terrific in bed, but so were plenty of other girls at Hogwarts. None of them had him contemplating a third assignation. Hell, their second had only ended a few hours ago and here he was, showering so he could rub one out while he thought about how smooth her golden skin was beneath his hands.

He definitely liked how much smaller she was than him. The way he was able to pick her up and fuck her against the wall was hot as hell. Merlin, he also liked how smart she was. He'd caught her reading Ancient Greek for Salazar's sake. Who even read Ancient Greek anymore?

There was also her clear appreciation of his Quidditch skills. Although she seemed to like all Quidditch players, she spent enough time with Potter and Weasley, after all. The best part of her admiring him as a Quidditch player? She didn't fawn. _All_ of the other girls fawned all over him, without understanding a lick about the game. Granted, he and Granger hadn't really spoken of Quidditch, it's possible she didn't understand anything about the game either, but Rowle had a feeling with as brilliant as Granger was, she'd at least know a thing or two. Hell, when he told her about getting recruited for the Pride, she had just wished him a heartfelt congratulations. When he'd told the same news to Marcy Fawley, she'd offered him a blow job. Which, Thorfinn definitely didn't turn down. Marcy Fawley was known for her excellent blow jobs.

He shook his head and gripped his cock firmer. Marcy Fawley may be good at blow jobs, but she was lousy in bed. The idea of Thorfinn sliding his hand up Granger's smooth thigh took hold in his head. He wanted to taste her. That's what he should do next time, bury his face between her thighs and make her come on his tongue. The thought had his hand moving faster and faster over his cock until he came with a groan against the shower wall. He rinsed away the evidence and turned off the water. This thing with Granger was getting out of hand.

* * *

Thorfinn successfully ignored any urges he had toward Granger for a few days. Long enough to notice that Antonin was looking particularly lovesick the following Wednesday. They both had a double free period just before dinner that day and usually spent it on a game or two of wizarding chess in the common room.

"What's wrong with you?" Thorfinn asked after he beat Antonin for the second time in a row. They were rather evenly matched when it came to wizarding chess, so it was a surprise that he'd won twice.

Antonin sighed heavily. "Bridgit Manklesworth," he muttered, setting up his chess pieces for the third time and ignoring the way the queen shook her fist at him.

"Still? I thought she was as hit-it-and-quit-it as you were." Thorfinn nudged a pawn back in place and settled back to wait for Antonin's opening move.

"Maybe, but I can't get her out of my mind," Antonin said. "Do you know that she—"

"I don't need details, mate," Thorfinn replied, quickly cutting him off.

He ignored the way Antonin's eyes narrowed and concentrated on the chessboard.

"You used to love hearing the details…" Antonin trailed off.

"Eh, you look like you might actually _care_ about her. Like you might actually have feelings. I don't want details if feelings are involved." Thorfinn thought it was a rather decent answer, but a glance up at Antonin's face told him that his friend wasn't buying it.

"Is that why you haven't mentioned the fact that you've fucked Granger three times?" Antonin asked. "Because there are _feelings_ involved?"

"How do you know that?" Thorfinn asked, furrowing his brow. He tried to think back, but he was almost positive he hadn't told Antonin of that third time.

Antonin smirked and tapped his nose.

"That's disgusting," Thorfinn muttered, shoving a pawn forward.

Antonin looked pleased with himself. "It's a gift," he shrugged, "I just decide to use it where it suits me best. So… spill on Granger."

"There's nothing to spill," Thorfinn muttered. "She's a good fuck and technically it's been two fucks and a fingerfuck."

"You fingerfucked her and she didn't reciprocate? Sounds like three fucks to me…"

"Shut up," Thorfinn growled, capturing one of Antonin's knights.

"Don't get her hopes up," Antonin warned again. "You have a reputation to maintain… don't fuck it up a few weeks before school is over."

"Don't worry," Thorfinn replied rolling his eyes, "it's all a bit of fun." He just needed to convince himself of that, because right now, round four was sounding _very_ appealing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not! And especially thanks for all the baby well-wishes! She is here and she is perfect! Hoping to stick to my once a week update schedule from here on out.**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

If Thorfinn looked at another book, he was going to go mad. NEWTs began on Monday, but the idea of staying cooped up inside the rest of the weekend made him feel physically ill. It had also been almost a full week since he'd last been in the company of Granger. Perhaps she would be ready for another go around. _You're playing with fire_, a voice whispered in his head. It sounded suspiciously like Antonin, but Thorfinn decided to ignore it. Maybe he was playing with fire, but wasn't that what one was meant to do when they were young? Play with fire. Get burned a little. Enjoy life. Thorfinn knew there was a list of witches waiting for him compiled by his mother, but he wasn't interested in any of that. Definitely not interested yet, and maybe never.

He wondered how long he could put his mother off. Years, if he was lucky. He was pretty sure he could bank on his busy Quidditch career to fend off any witches his mother had waiting in the wings.

Thorfinn was positive he'd seen Granger out by the lake recently, so that's where he went to look for her and wasn't disappointed. She was lounging under a tree with a veritable fortress of books around her. She had several open and was scribbling like mad on a roll of parchment.

"You're still revising?" Thorfinn said by way of greeting. "If you don't know it by now…" He trailed off as she continued scribbling, acting for all the world like she hadn't heard a word he said.

He knelt down to try and get a better look at what subject she was studying for.

"I finished revising a week ago," Granger muttered suddenly, taking a slight pause in her writing and consulting one of the books.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" Thorfinn asked, he settled next to her and peered over her shoulder. The parchment was covered in Arithmancy equations.

"Designing a spell," Granger replied absentmindedly. She brushed a lock of hair from her face and Thorfinn took a long look at her. She was in another of her sundresses, the dappled sunlight danced across her skin. She looked good enough to eat.

"Something you do often?" Thorfinn asked, still trying to make out what exactly she was trying to figure out with the Arithmancy equations. He'd taken Arithmancy for a few years but had dropped it after his OWL year.

"I hold a couple of patents. I'm hoping to secure a few more before I graduate next year." Her frantic scribbling was back in full force and Thorfinn was impressed with the fact that she seemed capable of holding a conversation and writing complex equations at the same time.

"Really? What are your patents?" Now he was truly intrigued. What sixth year held patents to spells? What kind of spells would a woman like Hermione Granger create? Surely, obscure, swotty ones, but still, the idea that she was so ambitious fascinated him. Maybe she should have been a Slytherin.

After a long moment of scribbling, Granger finally put down her quill and looked up at him. She'd been lying on her stomach, and the angle was awkward, so she half-turned over to see him. "Did you need something?" She sounded thoroughly annoyed and Thorfinn smirked.

"Just wanted to see if you were interested in blowing off some steam?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. It was interesting that she didn't answer him about the patents. Was she keeping them a secret on purpose? Had she not realized she was speaking with him? Well, if she held patents, then they'd be listed with the Ministry. It wouldn't be hard to track them down.

Granger sighed and frowned at him. Thorfinn was beginning to hate that frown. It always came just before she said something he wasn't going to like. "This would be four Rowle. Just what are you playing at?"

"Does it matter?" Thorfinn asked, frowning at her in return. He was irritated that she still didn't call him by his given name.

"It matters if this means more to one of us than it does to the other," Granger noted sourly.

Thorfinn pursed his lips. He didn't miss how carefully worded that statement was. "Does it mean more to you?"

Granger scoffed and rolled her eyes. She sat up on her knees and flicked her wand. Her bag opened of its own accord and her books and parchment began a merry dance into it. More books than Rowle had thought possible fit into the bag. It was clear she had put some sort of extension charm on it. "No," she snapped. She stood to leave the moment her things were put away.

"Granger, wait up!" Thorfinn shouted, following her to the castle. She was practically jogging to get away from him, but Thorfinn's legs were longer. He caught up to her by the time she reached the grand staircase just past the entrance hall.

"Just what do you want? There are loads of other girls you can go bother. Go bother them instead," she insisted. She kept her voice low and Thorfinn had to bend down to hear her.

"Maybe I only want to bother you?" Thorfinn suggested. It was clear Granger wasn't in the mood to blow off steam, but Thorfinn couldn't seem to help himself where she was concerned.

"Don't get attached," Granger warned him.

"There's a party in Slytherin next weekend. After NEWTs. Come with me?" It was a spur of the moment ask, but now Thorfinn really wanted her to attend with him.

"Why?" Her voice was full of suspicion which he knew he deserved.

He shrugged, "Last hurrah?"

She sighed again, "Fine," and began making her way up the stairs.

"Wear a dress!" he called after her, watching as she disappeared around the corner and began up the second flight.

Thorfinn found himself deep in thought as he returned to the Slytherin common room. The patents were interesting. He'd known Granger was a swot. The swottiest swot in fact, but her ambition surprised him. What did she plan to do once leaving Hogwarts? He'd always taken her for a Ministry drone, but hadn't she said something about that a few weeks back? What was it? _If you don't want to be a Ministry drone, you'd do well to study hard too_. Ah, that was it. So not the Ministry for her then. Perhaps her own shop? He couldn't really see Granger as a shopkeeper, that seemed much too boring for her. Knowing what she had patented would go a long way into figuring it out. He would have to look into it.

* * *

Sighing, Thorfinn sank into his favorite seat in the common room. It was finally his last day of NEWTs, and he was ready for them to be over. After his OWL year, Thorfinn had dropped a few classes he didn't see as necessary. He'd always wanted to play professional Quidditch, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that a Quidditch career would set him up for life. If he sustained some sort of serious, career-ending injury, he would need something else to do. There was always the Rowle seat on the Wizengamot, but his mother held it currently and actually enjoyed it. Thorfinn wouldn't make her give it up for him. No, instead he decided to focus on Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration for his NEWTs. Mostly, because those were the subjects that his uncle suggested. Uncle Falco began Quality Quidditch Supplies over fifty years ago and had been hinting strongly for Thorfinn to take over the family business.

Thorfinn wasn't entirely sure taking over Quality Quidditch Supplies would be his cup of tea, but the store was well-managed, and he hoped he could focus his time on products. The store didn't make all of their products — brooms, of course, were made by specialty manufacturers — but several other types of Quidditch supplies were made in house. Specifically gloves, amateur uniforms, practice balls, and the like. He had always liked working with his hands, but he didn't have much of a head for numbers. At this point, it was just a distant plan, first he had several years of professional Quidditch to play. He was ready to be done with his final year of school. He couldn't wait to move into his flat up in Portree and begin training. The Quidditch season began in October, so he would have all summer to get into flying shape with the Pride.

"You're looking broody," Antonin muttered, settling into the seat next to him. "Last day, Transfiguration."

"Yes, I'm ready to be done with it all," Thorfinn said sighing. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. He was up late practicing the Transfiguration spells with which he had the most trouble. The theory he wasn't worried about, but the practical had always been more difficult for him.

"And get our party on tomorrow night," Antonin said with a grin. Thorfinn cracked an eye to see Antonin wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Yes, the end of term party is usually a good time. Hopefully, it will be an excellent time this year."

"You didn't," Antonin said, sitting up. He sounded worried and Thorfinn sighed. Somehow he felt like he was about to get another lecture from him.

"Didn't what?" Thorfinn asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"You invited Granger to the end of year party," Antonin said. It wasn't a question, it was like he knew already.

"Is there a problem with that?" Thorfinn asked. He sat up to see Antonin eyeing him warily.

"Only if you are planning to leave an impression with the girl."

Thorfinn scowled and stood up quickly. He wasn't actually in the mood to hear another lecture from Antonin about what was going on with Granger. What was it to Antonin anyway? He stomped out of the common room and to the Great Hall. At least after today, he'd be done with school for good.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself as she stood awkwardly in the Entrance Hall. Rowle hadn't really given her a time, she had just assumed it would be sometime after dinner. She flicked her wand to see it was now a full thirty minutes after dinner and no Rowle. She wasn't about to venture down to the Slytherin common room on her own. Not dressed like she was. Heaven forbid she ran into Malfoy or someone. He would laugh so hard he'd fall down. Even Harry and Ron were shocked at what she'd been wearing when she left the Gryffindor common room.

Harry had given a low whistle when she finally descended the stairs to the common room. "You sure you want to spend your last party of the year with Rowle?"

"I have another year left," Hermione shrugged. "Better hang out with some pure-bloods than watch you lose to Ron at chess."

"Hey! We're going to the Hufflepuff party," Ron protested.

"Oh," Hermione said. Even being friends with Harry and Ron, she didn't get invited to that many parties. Maybe they would have said something to her, but it was just as likely that they would have left without even thinking of it.

She frowned, the only parties she'd been invited to since the Yule Ball in fourth year were ones Gryffindor hosted. Was she really that much of a fuddy-duddy? Gryffindors, in general, were terrible at planning, which meant that the parties were few and far between. And if she happened to be in the library when a party began? Well, nobody had ever bothered to track her down. More than once she'd walked into the common room to see it strewn with the remnants of a party and a few passed out Gryffindors.

"Have a good night!" Harry called out just as she left the portrait hole.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Ron added.

She tossed them a grin and a wave over her shoulder and left for the entrance hall.

She shifted her weight again and began to regret wearing the pair of heels. She'd only worn them a couple of times and even with cushioning charms, her feet were starting to ache.

Flicking her wand again, she sighed when only three minutes had gone by. She'd give Rowle seven more minutes and then she was going back upstairs. Honestly, she didn't even know why she agreed to this.

Hermione bit her lip and leaned against the wall. Well, at least Gryffindor wasn't having a party. She could slink back to her common room and nobody would know her humiliation. She was about to turn to go when she heard footsteps from the floor below. Holding her breath, she watched as Rowle took the steps two at a time, rushing to meet her.

He wasn't even out of breath as he climbed and her heart fluttered over how good he looked in his Muggle suit. He had a short wizarding cape tied to his shoulders and had pulled his mane back into a semi-neat queue. His face was smooth, and Hermione realized it was the first time she'd ever seen him cleanly shaven. If possible, he looked even better than he usually did.

"Hi," he grinned at her when he finally reached the top step. He let his gaze drift down her body, taking in her black lace cocktail dress and fuck-me black heels. She stood a little straighter and it occurred to her that her feet didn't hurt nearly as bad as they had a moment ago.

"Hello," Hermione responded. Rowle held out his arm for her. She took it and he guided them down the stairs toward the Slytherin party.

"How was your final NEWT? Transfiguration, wasn't it?" Hermione asked as they walked along the corridor.

"Fine, glad it's over," Rowle replied. "I'm ready to be done. One more week and we're outta here."

Hermione smiled. She loved school, but even she was usually ready to be done by the time the end of the year rolled around.

Having never been inside the Slytherin common room, Hermione was surprised to see how sophisticated it looked, compared with the Gryffindor common room. It looked like a gentleman's club, all leather club chairs and dark mahogany furniture. There was even a bar set up on one side, with a few of the sixth years doing the tending.

The party was nothing like the few Gryffindor parties she had attended over the years. It all felt much more adult. Everyone was dressed to the nines and there was a low murmur of conversation with an underlay of some sort of jazz music that was playing from an old gramophone in the corner.

Fifth years were passing out drinks and Rowle snagged two glasses of elf wine, handing one to Hermione. She thanked him and took a tiny sip. It was delicious, and she could see how easy it would be to get drunk off of it. Keeping that in mind, she decided she would nurse this one drink for as long as she could, the rest of the night if possible.

Hermione followed Rowle dutifully around the party, after a while he was drawn into conversation with someone Hermione didn't recognize, but she did find herself standing near Bridgit Manklesworth from Hufflepuff. Hermione only knew her a little, but she did know that the Manklesworth family held dozens of spell patents.

"Hermione, right?" Bridgit asked, sliding closer so they were standing side-by-side.

"That's right. Bridgit?"

"The one and only," Bridgit laughed lightly. "How did you wrangle an invitation to this thing?"

"Rowle," Hermione said, nodding in his direction. "You?"

"Dolohov," Bridgit said with a love-stricken sigh.

"Really? Dolohov?" Hermione wondered if Bridgit was who she and Rowle had overheard with Dolohov in the library all those weeks ago. Dolohov's reputation was pretty similar to Rowle's in the womanizing department. Was this some sort of game between the two of them? See how long they could string her and Bridgit along?

She shook her head and smoothed out her furrowed brow. It didn't really matter. Hermione wasn't being strung along, even if Bridgit was. She knew what Rowle was and she was also very aware that any pure-blood without a betrothal contract was likely to play the field. It wasn't as if Hermione hadn't had her assignations over the last few years.

"Manklesworth, right? So your family has the security market fairly well cornered," Hermione said.

Bridgit laughed and agreed. "It's somewhat compulsory now. I have to get seven NEWTs to even be considered for the company."

Hermione smiled in response as they began discussing the Manklesworth family business. She found herself enjoying Bridgit's company. She was a decent conversationalist and quite funny to boot.

After a while, Dolohov stole Bridgit away for a dance and Hermione found herself alone once more. Glancing around the room, she spotted Rowle. He was holding court in a corner, surrounded by Quidditch groupies. Rolling her eyes, she's not surprised there are half a dozen girls twittering over him. She took another sip of her drink, only to realize it was empty. At least that gave her something to do. If Rowle didn't tear himself away soon, though, she was just going to leave.

She made her way to the bar to get another glass. She would have one more and give the party another thirty minutes or so before heading back to the Gryffindor common room. A glance at the clock above the door told her it was still early, just ten in the evening.

Hermione gave her order to the sixth year tending bar and turned around to survey the room. She frowned when she saw Malfoy making his way toward her and turned back around. After the animosity in their early years, she still didn't care for him. It didn't matter that he'd kept his distance after Voldemort died a good two years ago. She didn't like him.

"Granger," Malfoy greeted, standing next to her and leaning against the bar. He slid his empty glass forward and the bartender hurried to fix his drink.

"Malfoy," Hermione said with a sigh, turning to face him. Her lips were pursed, but she couldn't seem to stop that expression when it came to him.

"What have you done with Rowle?" Malfoy said just as she'd taken her first sip.

She barely managed to keep from choking and coughed for a moment. "Nothing, why?" What could Malfoy possibly mean? And was it possible that more people than just her had noticed how Rowle didn't seem to be following his normal pattern?

"Well, for one, he won't stop looking over here…" Malfoy said. He tipped his head toward the corner where Rowle was. Hermione leaned around Malfoy to see Rowle still engrossed with his groupies, but half-turned away from their direction.

Malfoy scoffed, "No need to be so obvious about it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and decided a change of subject was needed. "Do you have plans for the summer, Malfoy?"

Malfoy, however, wasn't quite ready to be done with their previous conversation. "Want to make him jealous?" he leered at her.

"What? Ew, no! I don't play those sorts of childish games," Hermione spat, taking a step away from him.

"Aw, but he's left you all alone now for close to ninety minutes," Malfoy responded, still giving her that smirk she'd smacked off his face back in third year. He took a step forward to match her step away.

Hermione blinked at him. "Are you keeping track?"

"You have no idea the ways of pure-blood culture," Malfoy said with another scoff.

"Don't remind me," Hermione muttered. She knew she was out of her depth in the ways pure-bloods worked, but she had assumed, and as she kept insisting to Rowle, that this was all just a fling anyway.

"Want to learn?" Malfoy asked. He lifted an eyebrow at her and sipped his drink. He certainly sounded sincere.

"What do you want in return?"

"I'll think of something," Malfoy replied, that little smile still hanging about the corner of his lips.

Hermione didn't like that answer. What could Malfoy possibly want from her? "I'll think about it."

"Well, I'll let you in on a little secret then," he leaned forward, placing a warm hand on her half-exposed back and whispered into her ear, "this is called a power move." Then he placed a kiss on her neck, just below her ear. She shivered as she felt a second, larger hand slide along her waist.

"There a problem here?" Rowle asked, glaring at Malfoy.

"None," Malfoy grinned. "Just wishing Granger a happy summer." He bowed formally to them both and turned around, sweeping his way through the crowd.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" Rowle hissed. He sounded angry, but Hermione was too stunned to think.

"I have no idea," she said quietly. She knew there had to be something Malfoy wanted, but he'd done what she had been unable to do. Get Rowle's attention.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

The rest of the evening, Rowle kept a hand on Hermione's back, not allowing her to stray far from him. Hermione wondered again why he had invited her to the party. While he did speak with her, more often than not he was entertaining others, allowing her to stand at the fringe of the group. Before the party truly began to break up though, he bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Follow me," he murmured and guided her around the small group they were talking to and down a corridor, she hadn't noticed earlier. He led her along to the last door on the left and pushed it open. There were only two beds inside, but it looked like a typical Hogwarts dormitory.

"Is this your room?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"Mine and Antonin's," Rowle replied. He slipped both arms around her and she leaned her back against his chest. "Ours for the night."

Hermione snorted. "Kicking your roommate out?"

"He's done it to me often enough," Rowle murmured into her ear. He planted a kiss just below her ear, the same place Malfoy had earlier. Hermione shivered again, closing her eyes, and enjoying the sensation of his large hands running along her body. His fingers dug into her dress and began lifting her skirt up. It was short, so there wasn't much of a way to travel before his hand was cupping her mound. Her knickers were already slick with wanting him and she twisted her shoulders so she could press her lips to his.

"Overdressed, Rowle," Hermione muttered against his lips as he slid the zipper of her dress down.

"It's Thorfinn," he growled against her neck as he helped her out of her dress. Hermione stepped out of her heels at the same time and shimmied her knickers off her hips while flicking the clasp on her bra. Her back was still to Rowle, so she was surprised when she felt his warm skin behind her as he guided her toward one of the beds.

"I've dreamed of having you like this," Rowle hissed as he pushed her down onto the bed on her hands and knees.

Hermione responded by wiggling her bum in the air and arching her back. Rowle was suddenly right behind her, his heavy cock between her legs as one hand came around to finger her clit and the other to thumb a nipple.

"Fuck," Hermione gasped when the head of his cock slid inside her at the same moment he pressed his finger against her clit in just the right way.

"That's right, little witch," Rowle murmured as she bucked her hips back against him, fucking herself on his cock.

Their rhythm built, and it wasn't long before Hermione was panting in time to Rowle's groans. Her skin was slick with sweat when she felt his arms wrap around her torso and he pulled her up so that her back was against his chest. He sat back on his knees, and she straddled his lap as he helped her ride him.

"So fucking gorgeous," Rowle hissed against her neck, he gathered her hair to one side, holding it tightly there while he placed kisses along her shoulder. His other arm was still banded around her waist and Hermione felt a bit at a loss of what to do with her own arms. She reached one behind her, gripping his hair and twisted just far enough that she could kiss him. The other she slid along the arm banded about her waist, twining their fingers.

Her skin slid along his in delicious friction mirroring the friction below. Hermione gasped as Rowle flexed his hips, hitting her cervix, her head fell back against his shoulder just as a movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Dolohov was standing in the doorway of the room, his head cocked to one side, as he observed them. Hermione let loose a half-strangled scream in shock. She wanted to get off of Rowle, to cover herself from Dolohov's view, but Rowle had his arm around her so tightly, she couldn't have managed it if she tried. She wasn't sure if she could have managed it even if Rowle's arm wasn't around her, not with the sensations currently coursing through her body.

"Fucking hell, Antonin. Find a different room for the night," Rowle grunted, his pace never slowing. Hermione closed her eyes; she wouldn't ever be able to look at Dolohov the same again. Thank goodness the school year was almost over and she wouldn't have to.

"Call it payback for the library," Dolohov murmured before closing the door behind him.

"Fucking embarrassing is what it is," Hermione said, her movements stilling.

"Don't be embarrassed," Rowle said, licking up her neck to her earlobe. "He liked what he saw."

Hermione shuddered, for she didn't want to think about the things that Dolohov liked.

"Don't lose me now," Rowle said as she attempted to pull away again. He slid a hand down to her clit, sliding a finger alongside it. Hermione gasped at the sensation as a new wave of moisture coated Rowle's cock.

Suddenly, Rowle released her, and Hermione fell onto her hands and knees. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades and she sank onto the bed, pillowing her head on her hands. Her hips were still raised as he began pumping again.

The new angle hit Hermione in all of the right places and it wasn't long before she was shouting her completion into the bed. If Rowle hadn't been holding her hips up, she would have collapsed into a boneless pile on the bed. As it was, he held her up as he chased his own climax, groaning loudly as his hips stuttered to a stop.

When he did let her go, he rolled to the side and immediately gathered her close. Hermione yawned and enjoyed the warmth for a few minutes.

"I should go," she murmured sleepily.

"You should stay," Rowle replied, running his hand up and down her flank. "You're warm, I'm warm. We'll sleep."

"I'm not doing the walk of shame in the morning, Rowle," Hermione protested, trying to sit up.

"_Accio_ wand," Rowle muttered, his wand shaking itself loose from the pile of his clothes in the middle of the floor. He proceeded to set an alarm for four in the morning. "There. Too early to be considered a walk of shame."

Hermione snorted. "I don't think you know what a walk of shame is," she murmured, but she stopped trying to leave.

"If nobody sees it, is it really a walk of shame?" Rowle whispered into her hair.

There were only three hours until the alarm charm was due to go off, but Hermione decided to acquiesce to Rowle on the matter. He was right, nobody would be up at four in the morning to see her.

At some point, before the alarm went off, Rowle woke her again. His cock was pressing needily against her arse. Hermione lifted her leg over his and arched her back as Rowle slid inside. They had sleepy, comfortable sex before drifting off once more.

* * *

For not having any responsibilities left for the rest of the week, Thorfinn found himself in a remarkably bad mood. He wasn't the sort to dwell in his emotions and feel bad for himself, but he also found himself unwilling or unable to stop thinking about Granger. She had exams yet this week, so Thorfinn decided he needed to stay away from her. It was unlikely that she'd let him distract her anyway. But the idea that he couldn't give her up at the end of the year had somehow crawled into his brain and now wasn't leaving.

The truth was, he didn't want to give her up. And he didn't understand why that was. Why wasn't she like every other bird he'd shagged in the last few years? And why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Maybe he just needed to get over her. And the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. Thorfinn chuckled to himself and went to see who was about in the Slytherin common room. There were several girls in his year with whom he had a casual relationship. Just to scratch an itch.

It was hot enough outside that the damp of the common room kept most of his house inside.

"Thor," Marcy Fawley spied him from across the room and strode over, "just the man I was looking for."

"Looking to blow off some steam?" he asked with a smirk when she reached him.

"I was hoping I could help _you_ blow off some steam," Marcy suggested, running her hand across his chest. "It's been too long, I've missed you."

"You know I don't go in for all that attachment nonsense," Thorfinn reminded her.

Marcy laughed. "I'm aware. It's just, nobody has a cock that measures up to yours," she said, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

Thorfinn smiled down at her and held out his hand, indicating she should precede him to his room. He tapped her arse as she walked by, earning him a giggle. This was just the thing to get over Granger.

The moment the door was closed behind him, Marcy was all over him. She yanked his head down and planted her lips on his, shoving her tongue inside his mouth. Normally, Thorfinn had no issues with how aggressive Marcy was, but her tongue in his mouth was almost gagging him. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. She smirked at him and dropped to her knees, reaching for the placket of his trousers.

He knew he was in trouble when he realized he wasn't hard and it didn't seem like Marcy was going to be able to get him hard. When she pulled out his cock and attempted to kiss it, bile rose in his throat and he actually did gag. He backed up and tucked himself away, his heart beating fast as he tried to figure out what was going on with him. What the fuck was he going to say to her?

"Something wrong?" she asked, still kneeling on the floor, looking up at him. It would have been a pretty sight if it were Granger. His lips tightened at the realization and he clenched his fist. Just what had Granger done to him? He was going to have to track her down and figure it out. If she was clever enough to patent spells, then she was clever enough to create some sort of attraction spell.

"Just remembered I have somewhere to be," he muttered before rushing out of the room. He ran a hand through his hair as he exited the common room. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink with her unless you counted the party, which he didn't. Besides, she hadn't brought him a drink once, which ruled out a potion. Unless it was topical? But how would she have gotten it on him? No, it had to be some kind of spell. He just needed to figure out which one before he confronted her with it. He was angry, angrier than he could remember being. How dare she do this to him? And what was her end game? All questions that needed to be answered.

He was stomping his way toward the library when he ran into Antonin.

"Woah, mate, you alright?" Antonin asked after taking one look at his face.

"Just fine," Thorfinn said through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath. He knew he needed to calm down, but it was difficult when he couldn't stop thinking about fucking Granger. In every sense of the word.

"I told you not to get too close to her," Antonin smirked knowingly. "She's under your skin now."

"No," Thorfinn said, shaking his head, "there's something else going on. I think it's a spell."

Antonin laughed. "It's not a spell. It's love, pure and simple."

Thorfinn tsked. "You don't know what you're talking about. Do you have any idea what she's done?" He relayed what happened with Marcy and watched as Antonin's eyebrows ticked up. "It's definitely a spell. She hasn't had a chance to use a potion, what else could it be? And she told me herself that she holds patents for a few spells. Maybe one of them is some sort of attraction spell?"

Shaking his head, Antonin disagreed. "There's no such thing as an attraction spell strong enough to make you _un_attracted to other people."

"What do you know?" Thorfinn muttered, pushing past his friend and continuing on his way to the library. Hogwarts had to have a patent registry. He just needed to find Granger's name in it and prove himself right and Antonin wrong.

And then he needed to figure out what to do about Granger.

Three hours later, he left the library, no closer to finding what he was looking for. Hogwarts registry was out of date. He had assumed it would be tied to the Ministry registry, but after confirming with Madam Pince, it wasn't. And it had been last updated five years ago.

Well, no matter. He could send off for the registry. His mother would certainly help him with that. He dashed off a quick note to her and sent it off with his owl. He was determined to get to the bottom of this. It wasn't like he could leave Hogwarts in a week without the ability to fuck anyone but Granger.

* * *

The following morning when the owl post arrived, all eyes turned toward Thorfinn as a huge scroll, being carried by three owls, headed toward him. He pushed his plate from him, giving the owls room to land. Then, he ignored everyone as he snatched the scroll up and stalked out of the Great Hall. He was going to get to the bottom of this Granger business today, if at all possible. The scroll was long, but Thorfinn knew a few research spells that could help lessen the load of reading through the entire thing.

Three days later, he finally had read the entire scroll. Not a single spell, potion, charm, jinx, or hex was attributed to Granger. Every research spell he tried failed because Granger's name wasn't listed in the scroll at all. No Granger, no Hermione, no Jean even. He'd had to ask around quite a bit to find her middle name. Sighing heavily, he leaned back against the wall. He'd been camped out in his room for the better part of a week, and he was still no closer than when he started.

"Ready to admit it?" Antonin asked, leaning on the doorway to their room and crunching an apple.

"Admit what?" Thorfinn muttered, his eyes practically crossing as he read through the first part of the scroll again.

"That it wasn't a spell she put on you, mate." Antonin's voice held a chuckle and Thorfinn glared at him. "Just plain, old-fashioned love."

"I don't love her," Thorfinn replied. "And even if I did, this certainly doesn't feel like love. It feels like anger, and consternation, and…"

"And looove," Antonin sing-songed. Thorfinn threw a pillow at him.

He rubbed his face when something caught his eye, a spell created by a corporation, an Infinity LLC. Granger was considered the brightest witch in her year. She read ancient Greek for crying out loud. It seemed entirely possible that she had set up something similar. Hell, even a pseudonym would stump him. Although he wasn't sure of the legalities of registering a patent under a false name. Regardless, unless he knew the name, he would have no idea which spells she had created.

A thought occurred to him that perhaps he could figure out which spells were hers by reading the spells themselves, but the scroll was tens of thousands of lines long. It would take a lot of work to cross-reference each spell with the year created to see if it was actually feasible for Granger to have completed it. Perhaps he would attempt that if he couldn't weasel the name of her pseudonym out of her. He had one more day left before they all got on the train back to London. If all else failed, he'd corner her on the train.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

Thorfinn watched from the platform in Hogsmeade as Granger and her friends laughed and lugged their trunks onto the train. It was a perfect summer day, with a light breeze sliding between the train and the station building. The sound of her laughter did things to his stomach he wasn't ready to examine at that particular moment. All he wanted was to be sure she got on the train. There would be six long hours to corner her once the train left for London.

Waiting until the last possible second, Thorfinn timed it perfectly to be the last person on the train, just before it left the station. Granger hadn't gotten off. Realistically, he didn't think she would, she had no idea he was planning to trap her, but Thorfinn wasn't taking any chances.

She'd been damn near impossible to find the day before. He had looked all over the castle, except for the Gryffindor common room, and she had been nowhere. She hadn't even appeared for meals. So while she had no idea he was looking for her, it certainly felt like she knew.

Maybe it was another of her spells? The thought hit Thorfinn like a brick. Anger coursed through him. How dare she control him like this? He clenched his fists and took a few deep breaths. Her bodyguards wouldn't release her if he stormed into their compartment looking as angry as he felt. He took a few more deep breaths, working to get his temper under control. At least he could secure an empty compartment before he went looking for her. That should give him enough time to calm down.

He had to walk through three carriages before he found an empty one. He put a locking charm on the door and then began looking for Granger in earnest. This early into the trip there weren't many people outside of their compartments, which made looking through them quick work. Finally, he found her in the last carriage, second to the last compartment. She was sharing a compartment with Potter and two Weasleys, scribbling on a piece of parchment, seeming not to be paying any attention to her friends.

He slid the door open and leaned against it. She didn't bother to look up.

"Rowle," Potter said with a nod. Granger looked startled as she tore her gaze from the parchment before her.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Can I talk to you?" Rowle said, failing to keep the frown off of his face.

Granger gave him a matching frown, but nodded.

"You sure, 'Mione?" the male Weasley asked. Granger gave him a quick smile and nod as she tucked her parchment into her bag. She followed Thorfinn out of the compartment and into the carriage corridor.

Thorfinn led her back four carriages until he came upon the one with the empty compartment. With a flick of his wand, it unlocked. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter first. The moment he was in, he pulled the shades, locked the door, and set a simple warding charm.

"I'm not fucking you on the train," she said flatly before Thorfinn even had a chance to turn around.

"That's not what this is about," he replied. He ignored the way his heart fluttered at her scent; there was an energy lying just beneath his skin that made him clench his fists so that he wouldn't touch her. She was so close and he hadn't been this close to her in almost a week. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sitting on one of the benches before his knees went out from beneath him.

"Then what is it about? I have work to do," Granger replied, crossing her arms and staring down at him.

"Creating more spells?" he asked.

She shrugged and settled onto the seat opposite him, looking out of the window instead of at him.

"The funny thing is… I can't find a record of any of these patents you claim to hold." He leaned back in his seat and eyed her, trying to figure out if she was lying about the patents. He honestly didn't think she was, but if she defended herself then he would also get an explanation.

Granger cocked her head to the side and considered him for a long moment. "Are you spying on me?"

"Just trying to figure out how truthful you are," he replied coolly.

She snorted. "Why?"

He shrugged and looked out the window, unable to meet her gaze. The longer he was alone with her, the harder it became to keep from reaching for her. Her body called to him like a siren's song, and he was the stupid sailor who'd tried to go cold-turkey on his addiction.

After waiting a moment in silence for an explanation he wasn't going to give, Granger sighed heavily. "I'm a Muggle-born. I created a simple LLC to patent the spells under," she explained quietly, apparently not seeing the need to tell him why her explanation started off with her well-known blood status. They both knew there was still prejudice.

"What's it called?" Thorfinn asked, turning back to face her.

"Infinity LLC," she said with a shrug as if it was no big deal.

He attempted to not gape at her, but Merlin, he knew that name. He knew it because it was way more than a few spell patents. The patent registry sent to him had potions and Arithmantic equation patents as well.

Infinity LLC held closer to thirty patents.

"What exactly have you been doing?" he breathed.

Granger leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms once more. "I could have sat my NEWTs at the end of fifth year. I needed to do something to occupy myself since neither the Ministry nor Hogwarts would allow me to sit them early." Her explanation was dry and matter of fact, but Salazar if it didn't heat Thorfinn's blood. How could the idiots in charge want to hold back a brain like hers?

Her explanation made sense, but it only made him surer than ever that whatever it was he was feeling toward this witch was manufactured at her hands. It was clear she had the ability, but would she admit it to him? And if she denied it, could he believe her?

"Any lust spells or potions under Infinity LLC?"

Granger snorted and shook her head. "There are plenty of those on the market. No need to help the poor sods, who can't even talk to witches, get laid."

"One you haven't patented then?" Thorfinn couldn't help but ask. He thought she was telling the truth, especially with the way she scoffed.

"Why? Is there someone you're attempting to seduce?" Granger asked, lifting one eyebrow and eyeing him curiously.

"No!" he exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. "I think it's _you_ who's used it on _me_!"

Granger's laugh started out as a small chuckle, but it didn't take long to develop into full-on belly laughs. Thorfinn scowled at her, not seeing the humor in the situation. Why in the hell did she find this so funny?

"You're quite delusional, Rowle," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She was still laughing softly as she stood to leave.

She made it to the door, but Thorfinn stood quickly and wrapped a hand around her waist. He dragged her body back against his so she could feel what being in a small room with her for just the few moments they had been talking did to him.

"Let me go," she growled, her voice was low and full of dangerous promise. Her wand was in her hand, pointed at the floor, but Thorfinn had no doubt that she'd have it pressed against him if he pushed her in the wrong direction.

"Not until you tell me what you used on me," he replied, burying his face in her hair, taking a deep breath of her heavenly scent against her neck. His words were menacing, but his actions told a completely different story—one that was slightly embarrassing and obsessive on his part.

At that, Granger whirled around in his arm and poked him in the chest. She glared up at him. "Nothing, you prat! Whatever you're feeling for me is a product of your own fucking feelings. But I _can_ tell you that I certainly hold nothing fond for you." She pushed against him, but he held her tightly, not allowing her to leave his embrace. Now that he had her so close, he couldn't even think of letting her go until he'd at least tasted her lips.

"I don't believe you," he replied. "About the spell, yeah, okay, I can see how you wouldn't stoop to that. But your feelings? I think you're just as hot for me as I am for you," he murmured, his gaze bouncing from her fiery eyes to her lips and back again.

She seemed to hold her breath as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was like a tidal wave broke within him when their lips touched. Granger stood there for a long moment, not responding until Thorfinn slid a hand up her back and cupped the back of her neck. She melted against him then as her hands traveled up his chest and around his neck, pressing herself to him.

He took full advantage of her silent consent and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth as she molded her body to his. A moment later she pushed him hard on the shoulders and he stumbled backward, just managing to land on one of the benches before she scrambled up onto his lap. Hermione then straddled him as her hands wound through his hair and she kissed him again.

He groaned as she ground against his erection. He liked an in-charge Granger, it seemed. Sliding a hand down her torso, he lifted her shirt and traced his hand up the bare skin of her back, sliding his fingers along each notch in her spine as she arched against him.

She pulled back just long enough to fling her shirt off of her, before she was right back, pressing hot kisses against his lips. He flicked the clasp of her bra open with one hand and pulled the cups down with the other, fully removing the garment from between them.

"Oh," she sighed as he thumbed a nipple. She arched her back, seeming to get impossibly closer and Thorfinn took her hint, dropping his head to place a soft kiss on the tip of her beast. It was a hard little nub, begging for his attention, so he wrapped his lips around it and sucked. The moan she let loose then went straight to his groin and he flexed his hips up into hers, showing her that his cock was screaming for release from his trousers.

She was riding him now, her jeans-clad cunt was hot and damp as she slid over his prominent bulge. Her hands were wrapped around his neck and shoulders, holding tight as she moved. He put a hand on her hip, stopping her just long enough to unbutton and unzip her jeans, then reached a hand inside. She was so hot as his hand slid inside her knickers, her hips lifting to oblige him and he found her soaking as his fingers finally made contact with her cunt.

"Rowle," she gasped as he slid a finger inside, slowly, oh so slowly. He felt the need to tease her, to bring her to the edge, and yet hold back. He wanted his cock inside her when she finally came.

"It's Thorfinn," he muttered against the skin of her neck. Licking his way up her neck, he bit her earlobe just as he pressed his palm against her clit, two fingers now buried inside her. She bucked and shuddered in his lap, a long mewling, moan left her mouth, and impossibly, his cock hardened further.

Suddenly, Granger's hands were scrabbling at his back and he leaned forward, pulling his hand out of her trousers just long enough to help her remove his shirt. She stepped off him entirely and shimmied out of her jeans and knickers.

She was so fucking gorgeous, her body swaying with the movements of the train, the sun coming through the window, highlighting the golden glow of her skin. A wild, insane thought filtered through his head then. _I could love her. Just like this, I could love this witch_.

Pushing the thought aside, Thorfinn yanked his own trousers off and pulled her back into his lap. Her impossibly hot, wet cunt now directly above his cock and he hissed as she rocked her hips, sliding along the length of him. Her arms wound around his head and she placed a fierce, hard kiss against his lips as if she were preparing herself for goodbye.

Thorfinn's arms tightened around her. He wasn't letting her go, he wasn't going to let her say goodbye. This wasn't the end for them, even if that's what she thought. That moment of clarity, with her standing in the sun had been it for him. He knew it, deep in his bones, he knew it. Now he just had to show her.

"So much for _not_ fucking me on the train," he murmured against the skin of her neck.

"Shut up," she replied, tilting her hips and brushing her slit against his cock.

Thorfinn groaned and slid a hand up her back to the nape of her neck. He pulled her back and placed a tender kiss on the tip of each nipple, then guided himself inside her. She slid down so slowly, so incredibly slowly, and swallowed every inch of him. Fuck, it felt good to be buried inside her. So fucking good, he couldn't stop himself from flexing his hips.

She cried out, tipping her head back and he placed a hand on either side of her waist, helping her keep the rhythm he set. Slow, languid, with a hard thrust that had her mouth falling open and a cacophony of sounds spilling forth. Each erotic noise wound itself around his heart, tying it up like a present, readying it to be gifted to the witch in his arms.

He felt like he couldn't get enough of her, enough of her scent, her taste, the way she cried out so beautifully, and wrapped her hands in his hair, tugging it as she rode him. Every piece of her, he wanted for himself. As she cried out her completion, her movements slowing, he knew. He knew he wouldn't give this up—couldn't give this up. She was his. He just needed to show her that.

A strangled, "Hermione!" erupted from his throat as he came, hard, panting. Before she could scramble away, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his head buried against her shoulder, planting soft kisses along her collar bone. At first, she stiffened, but then she relaxed against him, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair. He closed his eyes, breathing her in, knowing that this would be the last time they would see each other like this. At least, for a while. He gathered her close, determined to hold onto her for as long as she would let him.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath the moment she left the compartment with Rowle. Her heart was beating fast and she didn't know if it had to do with what just happened with Rowle or something else. She hadn't lied to Rowle, she would never even consider creating a lust spell or potion, nor would she give someone such a concoction. She herself had suspected something artificial was going on, despite the crush she had for Rowle previously, because it seemed very unlikely to her that he would continue returning to her of his own volition.

But, she'd tested for everything she could think of and came up with nothing. She'd even worked some Arithmancy into the testing, trying to see if there was an unknown product on the market that didn't have a test or antidote made for it yet, but still, she found nothing. It was frustrating, to say the least. The fact that Rowle was also feeling something that felt unnatural to him only concerned her more, not less. What was going on with them? And why couldn't she find a way to fix it? If there was one thing Hermione hated most in the world, it was not being able to solve a problem.

She was walking along with her head down, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered the issue when she ran straight into someone. They steadied her with hands to her shoulders, and she looked up sharply to come face to face with Malfoy.

"Granger, just the person I was looking for," Malfoy said and released her, a mischievous lilt to his voice that would normally have her on edge.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked sullenly. She really wanted to get back to her compartment and think about this thing with Rowle.

Malfoy smirked at her and reached a hand out, fingering a curl. She swatted his hand away and attempted to smooth her hair, for she was sure it was a mess. Sex-head as Ginny would have called it.

"Well, you certainly had fun, didn't you?" Malfoy's smirk deepened into a chuckle.

"It's none of your business," Hermione snapped. She willed her cheeks not to redden and felt that maybe she had achieved it by the lack of heat that traveled there.

His lips twitched as if he were holding back a genuine smile. Hermione's scowl deepened. "Maybe, have you thought about my offer?"

Truthfully, Hermione hadn't given it much thought at all. Her ignorance of pure-blood culture didn't seem that important to learn at the time. Rowle and her were just having fun, right? But what had just happened on the train seemed like maybe she did need to learn a thing or two. This last time with him had seemed more… intimate, and it had her head spinning like a top.

"What do you want in return?" she asked, biting her lip again and feeling like maybe this was her version of making a deal with the devil.

"I hear you're handy at creating spells…" Malfoy said, trailing off as he leaned against the train wall and inspected the nails on his left hand.

"I am," she confirmed with a sharp nod. "I'll have conditions on the type of spell," she sidestepped any other flourishing Malfoy could have made without getting right to the point of what he so obviously wanted.

"Naturally," Malfoy replied, his smirk returning. "I'll owl you this summer."

Hermione nodded again then watched as he pushed past her and walked out of the carriage. She furrowed her brow and hurried back to her compartment. Never had she had so many Slytherins interested in her and frankly, she didn't understand any of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

A week after summer break began, Hermione found herself buried in Grimmauld Place's library. Her parents had moved to Australia the year before, with Hermione's blessing, for she had plenty to keep her occupied and friends in the wizarding world able and willing to house her until she graduated. She often spent her summers at the Burrow with the Weasley's or with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place anyway. This just meant she had more time for research, something her parents only understood obliquely. She missed them and planned to visit sometime after she graduated, but she was ambitious and had a lot she wanted to complete prior to her Hogwarts graduation.

During the first week she had been home, she'd approached Sirius in the kitchen about pure-blood customs. "Do you know them?" she asked, leaning against the wall to the entryway as Harry and he lounged at the large table. They had been discussing that morning's paper before she had entered and instated herself into their conversation.

"I do," Sirius replied with a frown, putting the paper down, "but you know I've never really subscribed to all that tripe."

"Everyone else seems to," Hermione murmured, looking down at her hands, her shoulder digging into the wall. She picked at her nail, hoping her nonchalance would help when she revealed her next statement. "Actually, your cousin offered to teach them to me."

"Draco?" he asked, sitting up from his lounging position and putting a hand around his glass of whisky he'd seeming forgotten in his discussion with Harry. His action told Hermione he may need a sip to deal with whatever she said next. "Really?"

Hermione hummed and nodded, still putting off a false air of unconcern, as if her spending time with Draco Malfoy was more in character than her unexplainable relationship with Rowle.

"Malfoy? Seriously, Hermione? What's in it for him?" Harry asked, also sitting straighter at the table across from Sirius. "And why are you spending time with him anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, pushing off the wall and moving to stand at the side of the table between the two. "I ran into him at the end of year party with Rowle," she explained. "I definitely felt out of my depth, and Malfoy offered. So I accepted."

"Slytherin party?" Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair and swirling his glass of whisky in his hand.

"Yes," Hermione said, refusing to look embarrassed about it. She knew Sirius hated his Slytherin roots, but honestly, the house prejudice was much less now than it had been when he attended Hogwarts and Voldemort was at the height of his reign.

"That explains it," Sirius nodded to himself. He looked thoughtful for a moment but didn't say anything else. Harry soon moved the conversation over to Quidditch, and Hermione resigned herself to waiting for Malfoy's owl. It was clear that Sirius had no intention of teaching her anything anyway.

* * *

Hermione was startled out of her reverie when there was a knock on the door to the library. Kreacher entered slowly. "There's a guest for you, miss, waiting in Master Sirius's library," the old elf said, bowing so low his nose touched the floor.

She frowned, who would come calling for her? Ron would just tumble through the Floo. And why were they waiting in Sirius's study? Hermione didn't like it. She marked her place in her book and smoothed down her shirt. Her summer skirt swished about her legs as she descended the stairs to Sirius's study on the first floor. She passed the spot where Sirius's mother's portrait used to hang and smiled briefly. It was a completely different painting now, although the canvas and the frame were the same. The permanent sticking charm was just that, permanent. But turpentine worked just as well on magical paintings as it did on Muggle ones. Hermione let herself smirk at the memory before moving on.

Low voices were filtering up out of the study as Hermione stepped down off the last stair. She paused, listening hard for a moment to see if she could figure out who it was in there with Sirius, but the voices were too muffled for her to even hazard a guess.

Taking another deep breath, she knocked on the doorjamb of the study and entered. The guest was in one of the huge wingback chairs that faced Sirius's desk, and Hermione didn't see them until they turned and stood.

"'Mione, come in," Sirius said warmly, standing as well. Her eyes flicked to his guest and her step faltered when she realized it was Rowle. He had a half-drunk teacup in his hand and was smiling at her like it was completely normal for him to have stopped by for a visit. It was weird to see him smiling and not smirking. Her stomach fluttered, and she couldn't decide if it was because of Rowle's smile or that whatever was going on didn't sit right with her. If she were being honest, it was probably a little bit of both.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sharper than she intended.

She ignored Sirius's frown and kept her eyes glued to Rowle. She had stopped in the middle of the room, unsure whether or not she wanted to get any closer.

"Please sit, kitten," Sirius said, using the nickname he had coined all the way back in her third year.

It was his turn to be on the receiving end of her glare as she took the seat next to Rowle. Sirius poured her a cup of tea, and she took the teacup just to have something to do with her hands. Her belly was clenched, so she didn't think she could stomach anything just then.

"Mr Rowle has come to seek your hand in a formal courtship," Sirius announced as if he was commenting on what they were having for dinner.

"No," Hermione spewed. It was almost instinctual how fast she said it. There was no way in hell she was entering some arcane pure-blood ritual that she knew next-to-nothing about. What in the hell was Rowle even playing at here? None of it made sense and until it did, she was not participating.

Rowle coughed and glared at her, choking on a bit of tea. Hermione ignored him. He was acting completely irrational. A bit of good sex and he wants to freaking _court_ her? No, thank you.

"Uh, you can't actually say no," Sirius replied, refusing to meet her eyes; she had obviously thrown him. Hermione set her teacup down on the desk with a sharp clink and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at both Sirius and Rowle. "Your guardian answers on your behalf and courtships aren't turned down. Ever. If, after having spent some time in the courtship, it turns out to be unsuitable for either party, then it can be broken off."

"No, thank you," Hermione said more delicately. Perhaps the politeness would get through to them.

"That's not how this works," Rowle muttered to her.

"It's how it will work for me," Hermione snapped. "Muggleborn, remember? I don't have to follow your silly little rules."

"Silly…" Rowle groaned and looked to Sirius for help.

"The courtship is filed with the Ministry. It's not just a set of rules, but has actual laws governing it," Sirius told her, frowning again. He had no right to frown, having been the one to ignore her request for knowledge on the customs he seemed so inclined to follow now.

"Well, my parents aren't here to accept the courtship. Wouldn't that mean I am my own guardian? I'm of age. I decline," Hermione said. Surely they couldn't have an issue with that logic.

"_I'm_ your magical guardian," Sirius replied. "You spend most of your out of school hours here, so when the paperwork came through during your fifth year, I just accepted on your behalf. It's mostly a formality, I didn't think there would be any implications from accepting it."

"Fucking typical," Hermione snarled, standing from her seat. "I cannot believe you did something on my behalf without informing me. You scoff at all the same pure-blood bullshit, refusing to clue either me or Harry into it, and then you pull this? Completely unbelievable, Sirius. Irresponsible even! Maybe I don't want you as my magical guardian? So far, you are doing a shit job of it."

She was pacing by the time she was finished with her tirade, but Sirius just sat back in his chair, gazing at her cooly. Rowle seemed embarrassed by the entire situation and was diligently staring down into his teacup as if it were the most interesting thing he'd seen all day.

Sirius turned to Rowle and said, "The courtship is acceptable. Please owl with the details of your first outing and who you plan to have as your chaperone."

Hermione was so shocked she just stared at him with her mouth hanging open. What in the hell had he just done? And without her permission _again_!

She ignored Rowle as he grinned at Sirius, thanking him and shaking his hand. He dropped a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her shoulder as he left the study, but she stood frozen, not reciprocating nor even acknowledging his sudden domesticity.

"I've fucked him like six times. I'm not entering some stupid old-school courtship! And we don't need a chaperone!" Hermione finally said, rounding fully on Sirius and stalking toward him. He leaned back in his chair and put his booted feet up on the desk before him.

"Fucking has nothing to do with courtship," Sirius replied. It was clear he was angry at her, but _she_ wasn't the one just unilaterally making life decisions for him. "Go back to the library, I have a headache." He waved her away, rubbing his forehead with the other hand.

"This conversation is not over," Hermione hissed before sweeping from the room. She slammed the door as hard as she could when she left the study and stomped up the stairs. She didn't care about his bloody headache. She didn't care that she was acting like a first-rate brat or like a typical teenager. She was bloody pissed at Sirius and Rowle both for pulling this stunt.

The moment she got to the library she dashed off a note to Malfoy and headed up to the attic where Hedwig made her roost, handing the note off. She stood and watched as Harry's owl flew east out of the city, trying to ground herself from everything that had just happened.

* * *

Thorfinn found himself walking out of the townhouse on Grimmauld Place with a spring in his step. He knew that Granger was ignorant of many pure-blood ways, so he wasn't too surprised by her reaction or behavior. He was a little surprised she immediately said no, though. And he was still not convinced that whatever was happening between them was natural. Something about it just seemed off.

He hadn't wanted to risk asking his mother about it in an owl, but the moment he arrived home from Hogwarts, he made her tea and sat down to have a conversation with her about it.

After explaining the entire story, Thorfinn's mum laughed. "Sounds like a soulbond," she said, chuckling still, taking a sip of her tea.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, his brows furrowing and a hand running through his hair. Whatever he expected his mother to say, it wasn't that. He knew of soulbonds, of course, they happened fairly frequently in the Rowle line, but still, they were exceedingly rare.

"It's a permanent, non-revocable bond between two magical beings. Most often between a witch and wizard, but it's possible to have it between two witches or vice versa. They are rare, but not unheard of." His mother smirked at him over the edge of her teacup.

Thorfinn frowned back at her. "I know what they are, but how could this have happened? Doesn't Hogwarts prevent this kind of thing? Like they prevent pregnancies? She has a year of school left, how am I supposed to ever see her for the next year?"

His mother shrugged. "It's the rampant hormones at Hogwarts. Have you slept with the girl?"

Rowle reddened and looked down. Sex wasn't entirely taboo in the wizarding world, but talking about sex with a parent was still awkward. "Yes," he admitted, still unable to meet his mother's gaze, "but I've slept with loads of girls and it hasn't triggered soulbonds with any of them."

"Those 'loads of girls,'" his mum said, somewhat disapprovingly, "weren't your soulmate, son. Soulmates are," she sighed wistfully, "soulmates. There's nothing you can do about it now."

"I could fight it," he replied stubbornly, not liking the sound of his possible freewill being taken from him.

"And suffer from soul-sickness? No, you wouldn't be able to play Quidditch. And eventually, the soul-sickness would drive you mad. Better to offer courtship for her. Who is she?" He could already see his mother's wheels turning, trying to figure out how to turn this into an advantage for them. Since his father's imprisonment in Azkaban, their family was basically persona non-grata in many of their former circles.

"She's a Muggleborn! She won't understand any of this! She doesn't even have a magical guardian!" he lamented. Now, he was beyond frustrated with the entire situation. Just when he thought he might have a few Granger-free weeks and figure out exactly what he was feeling for her… he sighed, running a hand through his hair again, completely mussing it.

His mother reached out and patted his hand. "Of course, she has a magical guardian. We'll ask the Ministry, they'll have it on file," she nodded with some finality. It seemed his decision regarding Granger was made for him. Courtship it would be. It was arcane, but it would be legally binding.

Since that conversation with his mum, he had been contemplating what their first date should be. Pride training had begun already and was eating up all of his free time, although the season didn't start until October. He wanted their first date to be fun, light, something that wouldn't put too much pressure on her. With Sunday being his light training days, only three hours, he chose one at the end of July and sent an owl off to Black and Granger both.

Finding out that Black was Granger's guardian was almost as much of a surprise as the soulbond. He didn't know who he would have picked for Granger's guardian, but McGonagall would have made more sense to him. Frankly, he was glad it _wasn't_ McGonagall. The stern professor had never liked him all that much. Black seemed much more his speed, and he was quite cordial to Thorfinn when he'd arrived with the courtship documents.

The second owl he sent went to Bridgit Manklesworth. He teased Antonin so much about her because he'd grown up with her. They lived in the same small village east of Taunton in Somerset, a mostly magical community.

He heard back from both Black and Bridgit, but Granger hadn't bothered to reply. Thorfinn supposed that meant she was still pissed at him, but there was nothing for it. Her guardian had accepted, therefore she would have to participate in the date. It certainly didn't make him feel any better, though. He didn't want to force Granger's hand at all, but he needed to make their courtship real, or else as their soulbond grew, they would have a real issue when it came to Hogwarts next year.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath as she waited for Malfoy. She chose Rosa Lee Tea Bay, an out-of-the-way teashop, in one of Diagon Alley's dingier offshoots. She hoped he showed up and knew a thing or two about courtships. Honestly, she couldn't believe Rowle would force her into this. She was angry at seemingly everyone; herself, Sirius for not backing her up, and Rowle most of all for catching feelings. He wasn't supposed to catch feelings.

_Like you caught feelings?_ She shook her head, trying to clear the thought just as Malfoy slid in the chair across from her.

"Nice spot," he muttered, looking around disdainfully and twitching the cuffs of his robes. He looked like he was going to set his hands on the table for a moment before changing his mind and folding them into his lap.

"It's quiet and not well-traveled," Hermione replied. "Business first, what do you want in exchange for information?"

"You create spells, right? That's why you have that bushy-head buried in books all the time?" He smirked at her as if pleased with himself to have figured out her secret. It wasn't even that much of a secret; she just didn't go parading around the information.

"I do," Hermione replied, refusing to rise to the bait he laid with the comment about her hair. "I can create a spell for you, given certain limitations, and allow you to patent it for your own or leave it unpatented entirely. It's up to you," she offered a small shrug as if him choosing one way or the other was of no consequence to her.

"What limitations?" Malfoy asked, his eyes narrowing. He looked like he was enjoying himself. Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes at him, Slytherins and their weird love of negotiation, she'd never understand.

"I don't do attraction spells, love spells, anything of the sort. And nothing too dark either. I'm not going to create something that's sole purpose is murder or mayhem."

"That's fair," Malfoy replied. "The spell I want created for me is more like a distraction, than anything else."

"Distraction for whom?" Hermione asked as she pulled out her notebook and began jotting some ideas down.

"Does it matter?"

Hermione shrugged again. "That depends. If it's a general distraction spell, then no, it doesn't matter. If you plan to use it geared toward one or two individuals only, then yes, it does matter. I can create a better distraction if I know who I'm supposed to be distracting."

Malfoy eyed her for a long moment, thinking her words over. Hermione let him think as she began taking down ideas on both a general distraction spell and one that would be centered around distracting one person.

"My parents," Malfoy finally whispered.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow and was pleased to see his cheeks reddened. She allowed him his dignity, though, and didn't say anything.

"I'm assuming you can get a bit of them?" Hermione asked instead.

"A bit of them?" Malfoy's jaw dropped. She couldn't tell if he was horrified or just surprised.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's like for Polyjuice Potion, if you want a spell that works every time against them, then I need a hair or a fingernail or something. I'm guessing that won't be a problem?"

"Right, no, I can do that," Malfoy confirmed.

"Good. Let's meet again in a week, owl me the personal items when you have it, labeled please, and I'll have your spell ready for you. It's likely to be more of a charmed object if that's alright?"

"Yes, that should be fine," Malfoy replied with a small sigh of relief.

"Your turn," Hermione prompted when Malfoy hadn't said anything for a while.

"Here," Malfoy said, pulling a book with a wine-red cover from the inner pocket of his robes, and pushed it across the table at her.

_Manners, Customs, and Etiquette for the Well-Bred Witch and Wizard_ by Jebidiah Hawkins read the front cover. It wasn't a terribly thick book, and Hermione picked it up.

"What's this?" she asked, flipping through the book.

"A pure-blood witch or wizard is given this book before they go off to Hogwarts. There's a test given, I've included it at the end, see. If you pass the test, you don't have to take a remedial class in your first year."

"Wait, there's a remedial etiquette class for pure-bloods at Hogwarts? That's ridiculous! Why can't the rest of us take it? Merlin, do you know how much easier that would make every half-blood and Muggle-born's lives?"

"And that's the reason," Malfoy replied. "Being pure-blood is like being part of an exclusive club. Either you're in it or you're not. I'm not saying it's right, just that it is the way it is."

"So everything I need to know is in this book?" Hermione asked, thumping it down onto the table and pointing her finger to it. She was disgusted that it was all so easy. She could have this book memorized by the following morning.

"It is," Malfoy replied.

"And you aren't lying?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. She had to be sure. If she was going to navigate this courtship with Rowle, she needed accurate information.

"Wizard's honor. Everything you need to know is in that book. We can talk it over when we meet again if you like."

"Courtships are in here?" Hermione confirmed. She picked the book up again and began flipping through it with more urgency this time.

"Rowle started a courtship with you?" Malfoy asked, looking surprised.

Hermione hummed her agreement as she found the chapter on courtships and began skimming it.

Malfoy let out a low whistle. "As you can see, courtships are included."

"Alright," Hermione said after a long moment. "Let's meet here again next week. Same time?"

Malfoy agreed and took his leave. Hermione had a lot to get done in the next week, not least of which was memorizing the treasure Malfoy had just given her.

* * *

The day of the date arrived, and Thorfinn found himself wiping his hands on his trousers as he approached Grimmauld Place. The house-elf answered the door again and bid him inside while he disappeared with a pop. Granger appeared a moment later at the top of the stairs. She was wearing one of his favorite sundresses—the white, lacy one. She looked beautiful, even if she was scowling.

"Have fun, kitten!" Black called out as Granger preceded Rowle out of the house and down the steps to the street. Granger offered Black a two-fingered salute from over her shoulder causing Thorfinn to snort. Apparently, she was still pissed at Black, too.

"We're Apparating to Diagon if that's alright with you?" Thorfinn replied. Granger nodded her head stiffly. Rowle's stomach roiled. Clearly, she was still angry, but he was calmed somewhat when he held out his arm for her and she took it. A small spark of electricity passed between them when her fingers landed on his arm. Taking a deep breath, he spun to his left and Apparated them away.

They landed at the Apparition point, just behind the Leaky Cauldron. Bridgit was there, waiting for them. She lifted her hand in a wave, and Thorfinn was pleased to see Granger smile at their chaperone and offer her own wave. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to loosen up Granger's current unpleasant feelings toward him at all. She kept hold of his arm but walked next to him stiffly.

She was so sullen, that he knew there was no way he could tell her about the soulbond. Not here in Diagon Alley like he had originally planned. He could see her reaction now, blowing up at him, ranting and cursing, causing a huge scene that wouldn't bode well for either of them. The soulbond wasn't his fault, but he had a feeling that she might end up blaming him anyway and if she did? Well, he didn't want it to happen in public. He'd tell her soon, just not today.

"Ice cream?" Thorfinn asked as they were approaching Fortescue's. Granger nodded, saying nothing. It was like she'd vowed not to speak unless she had to.

Once they were settled at the table, he tried a few different avenues of conversation with her. He talked about his training with the Pride, and she tilted her head, looking interested, but ultimately had nothing to add. When he asked her how her summer was going, he received a one-word response. He received one-word responses to most of his questions. Although, at one point he was able to make her smile.

It was awkward, but perhaps the best that was going to happen that day. She was still too angry with the whole situation. After finishing their dessert, they walked through Diagon Alley, spending some time window shopping, but the conversation did not increase. After an hour or so, Granger requested to be returned back to Grimmauld Place.

"May I kiss you?" Thorfinn asked once they landed on the stoop.

She tilted her head, considering him with cool eyes for a moment. "No," she replied and disappeared inside.

"Well that definitely could have gone better," Thorfinn muttered to himself. Although at least she'd willingly come with him. He would have to think about their next outing and how he could thaw her a little. Her freezing him out every single time just wouldn't do.

It had been weeks since they touched in a significant way, and already, he could feel the soulbond itching beneath his skin. This was going to be much more challenging than he had assumed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not! So sorry this is a week late! Newborns amiright? Hopefully, we'll be back on schedule for the rest of the chapters.**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

The rest of their dates that summer went much the same as the first, and Thorfinn was over it. He couldn't wait for Granger to get back to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, he'd have a much better time circumventing the rules of the courtship and ambush her in Hogsmeade one weekend. Their last date, Granger had spent more time talking with Bridgit than she had with Thorfinn. It was frustrating, and yet, he knew he couldn't push her.

He also still hadn't told her about the soulbond. There never seemed to be a good time to bring it up, especially when she was barely talking to him. She mentioned none of the uncomfortable feelings that Thorfinn was feeling. Hell, for all he knew, she wasn't feeling them at all. And wouldn't that just be the icing on the shit cake of this whole situation?

The frustration was a symptom of the soulbond, but knowing that fact did not help him. Not really, anyway. It was still there, a low-level irritation that affected everything he did and didn't do. It was somewhat useful during Quidditch practice, but he knew that at some point he'd reach a threshold where it wasn't helpful at all and became harmful. He just didn't know when that threshold was.

Thankfully, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year was a week before his first game. Although that meant juggling extra practices, he was able to get to Hogsmeade. He hadn't arranged to meet her, so he waited near the path back to the school gates. As long as she didn't come back just before curfew, he would have enough time. Although, being a seventh year, she likely had more leeway than a younger student if she did happen to break curfew.

He was lucky, though; he had only been waiting a quarter of an hour before Hermione appeared on the path with hours still left before the gates would be closed for the day.

Stepping out from the trees just as she came into view, she stopped, seemingly startled to see him.

"Rowle. What are you doing here?"

The sound of his last name on her lips was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

"It's Thorfinn, it has been for months," he growled as he stalked toward her. Looping one arm around her waist, he drew her close and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her hands were on his chest and at first he was sure she was going to push him away, but she pulled him closer instead. The feeling of her lips on his was what he needed. It's what he'd been missing for months. The anxiety and frustration that had bubbled just beneath his skin calmed at just the touch of her skin on his.

When she finally pulled back, panting slightly, her cheeks were darkened and he couldn't help but smirk at her. "Come on," he murmured, keeping a hand around her waist and leading her back down the path to Hogsmeade.

They didn't encounter anyone else on the path, it was still early for most of the students, and by the time they made it to the small inn next to the Three Broomsticks, Thorfinn's fingers were itching to hold her again. He'd already bought a room, and when they entered, he nodded at the innkeeper and led Granger upstairs.

Granger still hadn't said anything, but the moment they were inside the room, she was pushing him back onto the bed and scrambling to climb on top of him. Her hands buried themselves in his hair and he groaned as she dug her fingers into his scalp, kissing him as if he were what she needed to live.

"Hermione," he sighed between kisses. He ran his hands up and down her flank, as desperate as he was for a shag, this was just as nice. He could already feel the soulbond renewing itself.

"You're overdressed," she muttered, tugging at his shirt. He sat up, helping her to undress first him and then her. When she was totally nude, she crawled back on top, stretching out across him. All that delicious, smooth, warm skin-to-skin contact was enough to give him a bit of a high, his brain buzzing with the feel of it

"I need you," he said against her shoulder. "Please."

When she looked up at him, her eyes were clear and warm. That cold gaze from the summer was gone entirely, and it made his heart stutter to see such passion and heat in her gaze.

"You have me," she replied, lifting a teasing eyebrow.

Thorfinn smiled at her and rolled them so that she was beneath him. "Aye, I do," he said, placing a kiss against her lips. He didn't stay there, though, for there were so many parts of her he wanted to kiss, to explore. He was going to take his time with her today—to remind himself exactly what it was he was doing with this courtship.

He kissed his way down her body, stopping to worship her breasts for long moments. She panted and writhed beneath him, and it wasn't just his cock that swelled. His pride, his ego, swelled, too, because she was panting and writhing for _him_. He was the one making her feel this way, and he was going to make her see stars in just a moment.

Gently, he pushed her legs apart, she took the hint, bending her knees as he settled between them and parted her folds. He blew lightly and she giggled, wiggling her hips.

"Touch me," Hermione said, reaching down to wind her fingers through his hair.

"Gladly," he murmured, not caring if she heard or not as he began to lick her. She tasted as good as he imagined, alternatively fucking her with his tongue and flicking her clit.

If she was talkative before, it was nothing like she was with his face between her legs. Her head thrashed on the bed and she ground her hips into his face as she moaned and warbled and whimpered. Her sounds only encouraged him in his quest. He could feel the soulbond thrumming happily now. It was a glorious feeling, like winning a Quidditch game, but better. He never wanted that feeling to go away.

His cock was throbbing, and Thorfinn knew that if he didn't get inside her soon, he was going to spill across the bed like some teenager during his first time. Since that was the last thing he wanted to do, he brought a hand forward and slid two fingers inside her pulsing channel, making a come hither motion as he sucked on her clit.

"Thorfinn!" Hermione screamed as her body stiffened and she came all over his hand. Before she could relax, he clambered up her body and had his hips situated between her legs, his cock lying heavily against her folds.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached down to grab his arse with her hands, tilting her hips so that the head of his cock was at her entrance. She bucked against him, impaling herself and Thorfinn groaned against her neck at feeling her hot, wet heat surround him at last.

"Fuck," he grunted, his hips stuttering into hers, seemingly of their own volition.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, she slid a hand up his flank and to his shoulders, holding him to her. He felt treasured in her embrace. He kissed his way up her neck before pulling back just far enough to reach her lips.

He snogged her senseless as he fucked her. It wasn't truly fucking. No, this was something different, more intense, though not much slower. He felt more connected to her than he had ever before. It was intimate, loving even. He wanted it to last, to relish it as much as he could, but with the way Hermione was gasping, he knew she was on the verge of coming again. He also knew there was no way she was going to come around his cock and he wasn't going to follow her into that bliss. It would be too enticing not to, and he certainly didn't have the willpower today to withstand it.

She grunted hard, her body stiffening as her cunt clamped around him, he waited just long enough for her to relax before he also came with a shuddering sigh.

Long moments passed before either one of them said anything. He had rolled off of her, but she cuddled into his chest, surprising him. He had thought, especially with her attitude over the summer, that she would have been quick to leave, but instead, she curled against him, wrapping his arms around her. He certainly wasn't going to complain. Cuddling was almost as satisfying to the soulbond as sex.

"I should go," she said after a while. "Curfew is in an hour or so and I have a few essays I want to work on."

Thorfinn tightened his arms around her for a moment, placing a kiss on her shoulder before letting her go. He rolled over onto his back to watch her dress, completely uncaring that he was still totally nude.

After she pulled on her shirt and fluffed her hair, she turned around and eyed him critically. "What is this?" Her question was calm, although it still felt like a trap to him.

"It's a courtship," he finally said. Even though now would be the perfect time to tell her about the soulbond, something made him hold back. She hadn't mentioned anything about the symptoms he was feeling. He didn't even know _if_ she was feeling him like he was.

Her chuckle was dry, and while it was a laugh, she didn't sound amused. "I'm still learning, but I know enough to know that fucking isn't part of a courtship."

Thorfinn groaned, and sat up, running a hand through his hair as he thought about how to respond. "Maybe not, but don't you feel better than you have in months?" he fished.

"Why would that be?" she asked after thinking about it for a long moment, for her eyes had narrowed and now she was glaring at him.

"Maybe that's your homework for next time," he smirked at her. Part of the reason he was reluctant to tell her about the soulbond was that today was _so_ easy. So much easier than any of their meetings over the summer. He didn't want to lose that.

"Is this courtship going to keep happening? Or can we do away with it now?" she asked, donning her cloak.

Instead of answering, he stood up and dug through his own cloak, handing her two tickets for his game next week. "Courtship stays. I already wrote to Dumbledore, you'll have permission to attend any courtship related activities." He grinned at her as she snatched the tickets out of his hand.

"Fine," she muttered, rolling her eyes and stalking out of the room.

He was happy with the way the afternoon had gone. The soulbond was renewed, he was feeling in excellent spirits for the first time in weeks, and he would get to see her in just a short week after his game. Things were finally starting to look up.

* * *

The week after the Hogsmeade weekend turned out to be her best one of the school year. She was extremely productive in both schoolwork and her own personal work. When she'd returned to school, there had been a general low-level irritation with everyone and everything. She couldn't explain it and nothing she did kicked her bad mood.

Maybe all she needed was a good shag? It seemed unlikely, but she couldn't deny the effects as she completed her last essay for the month of October. It was only the first week of the month, she wasn't sure she'd ever been this far ahead on homework before.

If weekly shags with Rowle were what she needed for her productivity, she certainly wasn't going to complain. The courtship still rankled, especially when it felt like she had no choice in the matter. She didn't even have any say. Rowle offered, Sirius accepted, and boom, she was in a courtship. It was that kind of awful, backward logic that was one of the few things she hated about the wizarding world.

She also hadn't told anyone about the courtship. So when it came time to think about going to Rowle's game on Saturday, the easy answer was just to go by herself. Dumbledore had sent her a note earlier in the week letting her know when his Floo would be open for her to travel to the Portree stadium, so Hermione showed up in his office by herself.

She thanked the headmaster and ducked into the fireplace while wrapping her Gryffindor scarf more tightly around her neck. She didn't have any Pride gear, nor did she even know Pride's colors. She liked Quidditch well enough, but not well enough to follow any of the teams in the league.

Luckily, when she arrived at the stadium, she arrived in the family box. Not having to climb the hundreds of stairs upward was a relief. To her surprise, Bridgit Manklesworth and Antonin Dolohov were also in the box.

"Hermione!" Bridgit called her over, patting the seat next to her. While she didn't care much for Dolohov, Bridgit was becoming a friend.

"I'm glad to see you," Hermione admitted. "I was a little nervous showing up alone." She pulled her book halfway out of her pocket.

Bridgit tossed her head back and laughed. "I'm glad to see you, too. Antonin is a total bore at these games. He's so focused!"

Hermione grinned and settled in for a chat. Bridgit had begun working for her family's security business over the summer and Hermione was fascinated by all of the new charms and wards she was learning.

After a moment, Hermione looked up to see Dolohov's eyes on her. The game hadn't started yet, but judging by the clock behind the goalpost, it would be starting soon.

"What?" Hermione asked Dolohov when Bridgit got up to use the toilet before the game began.

"Haven't figured it out yet? You two deserve each other," he laughed mockingly.

Hermione wasn't going to rise to his bait. "Figured what out?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"Yes, Dolohov, what are you blathering about?" Bridgit asked, returning to her seat between them.

"Nothing," Dolohov shrugged, "if Thor hasn't told her, it's not for me to say anything."

Bridgit rolled her eyes at him. "Ignore him," she muttered to Hermione. Hermione nodded, agreeing, but was definitely going to ask Rowle about this later.

* * *

The game didn't last nearly as long as some of the Hogwarts games she had been to, only a couple of hours before the Pride Seeker had caught the Snitch. After the victory lap around the stadium, Dolohov and Bridgit dragged Hermione down to the locker room.

"We really don't need to," Hermione muttered as they rushed her down the stairs.

"Nonsense, Thorfinn will want to see you," Bridgit said, threading her arm through Hermione's. "Besides, don't you want to congratulate him? He was brilliant."

She conceded the point, Rowle had played a very good game. He'd been protective of his own team, not letting a single Bludger through and had been ferocious in sending the heavy balls toward the other team. Several times he'd forced the opponent's Chasers to drop the quaffle and duck an incoming Bludger.

The locker room was at the very bottom of the stadium and Hermione was winded by the time they descended the hundreds of stairs.

"This way," Dolohov said, flashing a grin at the wizard who was acting as security for the locker room area. There were at least fifty fans milling about, waiting to see their favorite players. The security wizard nodded back at Dolohov and allowed the three of them to enter the corridor.

Dolohov pushed the door to the locker room open and ushered Bridgit and Hermione inside. Hermione was dumbfounded as half-naked men and women were walking around, shouting to each other, congratulating each other. Merlin, she thought as a completely naked man walked right by. She kept her eyes on her feet, unwilling to look at anything more.

"'Tonin!" A hearty shout from Rowle made Hermione's heart pitter-patter, and she looked up just in time to see him rounding the corner. He had his Quidditch trousers on but was otherwise topless. Her breath caught in her throat as he hurried over to them. A quick nod at Dolohov and suddenly Rowle was all she could see as he wrapped her in a sweaty hug.

"Fucking glad to see you," he murmured into her ear. She couldn't stop her arms from encircling him.

"Congratulations," she offered as he pulled back, smirking down at her.

"Thanks, come on," he nodded once more to Antonin and pulled Hermione deeper into the locker room with him.

"Good game, Rowle!" someone shouted, clapping him on the shoulder. Rowle nodded but didn't slow. He opened a door that had his name on it and waved Hermione inside. It was like a dressing room, except for Quidditch. His various uniforms were hung up on hooks along one wall, as were three different brooms, a few styles of Beater's bats, and a few leather helmets. Along the other wall was a deep tub, currently empty. Directly across from them was a dark leather couch.

The moment the door was shut behind her, Rowle had his hands on her hips, pulling her back against his chest. "Thanks for coming," he said, placing a soft kiss against her ear.

Hermione shrugged. "You'd done all the work of making sure I could come."

"Still, I appreciate it," he rumbled behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, to pull up her t-shirt. "I think we need to invest in some Pride gear for you, though."

"Gryffindor is the only Quidditch stuff I own," she admitted as she turned in his arms, linking her hands behind his neck.

"You'd look good in purple," he muttered just before his lips were on hers. She groaned against him, practically melting into his arms and hating herself a little for how damned good it felt.

Within moments, he had them both completely nude and pressed into the couch. The leather was cool against her skin, but it soon heated from their frantic pace.

She couldn't think too deeply about why this felt so fucking right. His cock sliding home inside her made her keen and wish that she'd never lost that feeling. He made her feel safe and welcome and _whole_ in his arms, in a way that she had never felt before in the wizarding world. It seemed insane to equate the rather fantastic sex they were having with being at home in the wizarding world, but there it was.

"Thorfinn!" she cried out, just as her climax hit her with the force of a speeding train. All other thoughts turned to mush as her body tingled with the pleasure that coursed through her veins.

"Fuck, love," he grunted, his head dropped to her breast after he came deep inside her. She held him to her as they both caught their breath. What just happened felt transcendent. More than sex, more than a casual fuck and fling. It felt big and world-changing, and it terrified her.

* * *

It was hours later that Hermione finally returned to Hogwarts. Curfew was in an hour and she had a mission to complete before then. She didn't even bother returning to the Gryffindor common room, she went straight to the dungeons.

Thankfully, she ran into who she was looking for just outside of the Slytherin common room, so she didn't have to go knocking asking a firstie to find him.

"Granger?" he said with surprise as she walked up toward him. She grabbed the sleeve of his robe and dragged him off down the corridor until they came to the empty Potions classroom. She shoved him inside and followed, shutting and warding the door behind her for good measure.

"You have to help me, Malfoy," she insisted. "I need to know whatever it is going on between me and Rowle. He knows. I know he knows, he's alluded to it, but refuses to tell me and it's going to kill me, this not knowing."

"Honestly, I don't know," Malfoy said. He narrowed his eyes at her as if he were looking for a diagnosis.

"I'm irritable when it's been too long between fucks," Hermione said baldly. "Just touching his skin makes me feel like I can do anything. Being in the same room with him makes the world better, brighter, like _literally_ better and brighter. That isn't a euphemism. Everything is dull when he's not around. I'm anxious all of the time. Especially when I haven't seen him. This summer was torture as we went through this stupid courtship—"

"Oh, fuck," Malfoy said, interrupting her. His eyes were wide as he looked her up and down. "Rowle didn't tell you what it was, but he knows?"

"Yes," she snapped. "I just said that. He told me to figure it out."

Malfoy shook his head, his lips thinning. "I can't tell you."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you know what this is? Is this one of those silly pure-blood things? I'm sick of those! I just want to know what the hell is going on!"

"I can't," Malfoy said. "I'm sorry, I wish I could, but I can't. I… I can give you a hint, though."

"A hint?" Hermione asked unimpressed. "Fine, what's the bloody hint?"

Malfoy looked grim as he took two big steps forward and grasped her face between his hands. He lowered his lips and placed them against her mouth. Nausea welled up inside her and she put her hands on his chest, trying to push him away. She was going to get sick all over Malfoy if he didn't stop.

He wouldn't stop, he pulled her close as she struggled against him, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, and finally, a burst of wandless, uncontrolled magic welled up in her hands and he went sprawling on his arse on the floor.

He licked his bottom lip, shaking his head at her. "You're lucky, you really are," he said. Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she heard awe in his voice.

She glared down at him, her hands on her hips. "Tell me."

"Can't," he said with a shrug and stood quickly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, digging for his wand before dismissing her wards on the door and left. Hermione was pretty sure she heard him whistling as he walked toward the Slytherin common room.

She was still feeling nauseous and wanted to hit something very badly. She hated secrets.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

Hermione growled down at the letter she had just received from Sirius, tossing it into her bag to pour over later. Her brief skim told her nothing, but she was so unfocused these days, she wanted to at least look it over once more before setting it on fire in a pique of anger. That's where all her correspondence went these days. She hadn't seen Rowle in over two weeks, it was damned near Halloween and she was positively twitchy.

Neither Sirius nor Bridgit had any insight into whatever was going on between her and Rowle. That, or they, like Malfoy, were keeping it from her. She was ready to drag Malfoy into an abandoned classroom and torture the information out of him if it wouldn't result in her immediate expulsion, Head Girl or not.

More worrying than her inattentiveness was the fact that she hadn't been able to work on _any_ of her personal projects in over a week. It was frustrating. She _wanted_ to be working on them, she loved creating spells and charms. But she just couldn't concentrate on it. Her mind kept slipping to Rowle. Rowle in his Quidditch kit. Rowle half out of his Quidditch kit. Rowle lazily stroking himself.

_Godric!_ She had to clear her mind. She needed to see Rowle, but part of her was much too stubborn to admit that to him. If _he_ could handle feeling this way, then so could she. She looked back over her list of spells she wanted to work on this week and sighed. There were half a dozen she could be done with if she had any focus left in her to do so.

Ticking down the list, she tried to decide which would potentially need the least amount of research and attention. Third on the list was an updated featherweight charm that, while not permanent, would last upwards of two weeks and included an alarm component that would give a warning a day before it was ready to be renewed.

That should be easy enough, she decided. The bell rang for Potions and she groaned, shoving her things in her bag. She'd get much more work done if she didn't have to attend classes.

* * *

Four days before Halloween an invitation from Rowle came in the morning post. It was to a Samhain Ball at the Malfoys.

"Circe, another thing," she muttered angrily.

"What is it? Is it from Rowle?" Ginny asked, plucking the parchment from her hands. "Ooo, a ball!"

"I don't have anything to wear," Hermione snapped. She took a deep breath, she was attempting to be less irritable to her friends.

"Well, let's get permission from Dumbledore to go to Hogsmeade," Ginny said reasonably.

Hermione smiled at her friend; Ginny was being entirely understanding of the whole situation. "Are you sure you don't know what it is?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm guessing it's something magical, but beyond that? There are loads of ancient rites and spells that it could be. I couldn't make a guess."

She nodded. Noticing Dumbledore was getting up from the Head Table, she gathered her bag and hurried after him.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione called as he made his way toward the stairs.

"Miss Granger, how are you?" he asked, turning to give her a small smile.

"Good," Hermione responded. "I was wondering if I could ask your permission to go to Hogsmeade? I've received an invitation to the Malfoy Samhain Ball and I haven't a ball gown to wear."

"Mmm, yes, that is a conundrum. I'm assuming you'll want your friends along for help?" his blue eyes twinkled down at her and Hermione nodded.

"Fine, fine, just be back by curfew this evening," he said with a wave.

"Excellent," Ron cheered from behind her. She turned to see her friends standing there.

"We're not skiving off classes," Hermione told him sharply. His face fell in response and she rolled her eyes. "We'll go directly after the last bell has rung. Meet in the Entrance Hall then."

With that, she turned from them and headed to her first class for the day.

* * *

Gladrags had less of a selection than Madame Malkin's, but they did have a small selection of ball gowns near the back.

"We can make them any color, dearie," the shop owner said. She was an older woman with iron-grey hair and a countenance that reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley.

"Purple, we need a deep purple," Ginny said decisively.

"Why purple?" Ron asked.

"Rowle plays for the Pride," Harry replied. "It'll appeal to him."

"Oh my god, you guys," Hermione whispered, her face heating.

"Oh, yes, definitely purple then," Ron said. He began looking through the dresses and pulled one out. With a flick of her wand, the shop owner charmed it a deep aubergine. "Try it on," he handed it to Hermione.

She looked at the gown dubiously, but grabbed it anyway and headed for the changing room. Ginny followed with three more gowns in her hand. The one Ron had chosen was a classic ball gown shape with a sweetheart neckline, cinched waist, and large tulle filled skirt.

"I'm going to look like a cupcake in this thing," Hermione grumbled as Ginny helped her into it.

"Maybe not," Ginny said optimistically, but the moment the gown was on and adjusted, a laugh bubbled from her lips. "Okay, yeah, you can't wear that."

"Let's try something more form-fitting," Hermione said. "I'm too short for such a poofy dress. I need something that makes me look taller and more adult at the same time."

"Without being _too_ adult," Ginny added. "You don't want to look like you're trying too hard."

Hermione hummed her agreement as she wiggled out of the poofy dress and into one of the ones Ginny had chosen.

This one was a mermaid style dress, skin-tight all the way down to her knees. There was a stylish beaded pattern, and it was also charmed a dark purple.

"It's nice," Ginny offered when Hermione hadn't said anything.

"I won't be able to walk in it," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Maybe something with more flow?"

"Oh, this one!" Ginny said, pulling out one of the other dresses she picked. It was a Grecian style off-the-shoulder number. A tap of Ginny's wand had this one a deep purple. "The charm won't last, but it will give us a good feel."

Hermione nodded and slipped it on. It was certainly more comfortable than the other two, she turned a bit and noticed a slit most of the way up her thigh. "This is a little..." she fingered the slit a bit.

"It's sexy. They'll only see it when you're walking, otherwise, it'll be unnoticeable," Ginny stated firmly. "I think this is the one." She flicked her wand at Hermione's head, giving her a quick, messy up-do.

Hermione turned once more in the mirror before finally nodding. "Alright, this is it."

"Come on, let's show the boys for final approval," Ginny grinned, pushing aside the curtain. Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped out.

"Holy Merlin," Ron breathed as he looked at her. "Hermione, you look fit!" His voice made it sound like he couldn't quite believe just how _fit_ she looked.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, her face reddening.

"This is definitely the one," Harry agreed.

"You've found it then?" asked the sales lady with a smile.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it needs a permanent color-change to this color, but it is otherwise perfect."

A swirl of her wand and Hermione's dress was permanently the dark purple of the Pride of Portree. _Hopefully, Rowle would appreciate it_, she thought as she headed back to the changing room.

* * *

Eyeing the invitation nervously, Hermione twitched at her dress. It fit her perfectly, but this whole thing was nerve-wracking. She had no desire to go to Malfoy Manor, and certainly not to show up alone. _Where's your Gryffindor at?_

She sighed and squared her shoulders, tilting her head up, she grasped the invite just as it turned blue and activated the Portkey.

Her landing was less than smooth, but at least she arrived alone in the receiving room. Tucking the invitation into her small, beaded bag, she took a deep breath and followed the sounds of music out of the receiving room and toward a ballroom at the end of a long hallway.

Trying to project an air of knowing she was welcome, Hermione nodded to the house-elf stationed near the door and entered the room. It was gorgeous and she did her best not to drop her mouth open in awe. Three huge chandeliers hung across the ballroom, they were supplemented by hundreds of smaller candles, similar to the ones in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

A string quartet was playing in one corner of the room as witches and wizards milled about in colorful robes. She was glad her dress seemed to fit in with the general dress code. Glancing around, she didn't see Rowle and frowned slightly. She did spy Malfoy speaking with a couple of other Slytherins in their year near a bar set up off to the side.

Hermione made her way to the bar. If she was going to throw herself into the snakepit, at least she could have a drink in her hand. She certainly didn't want to get drunk, especially since she was seemingly on her own. _Rowle better show his pretty face soon_, she grumbled to herself as she reached the bar.

Another house-elf was stationed there, and she ordered a glass of elf wine.

"Granger," a smooth drawl said from beside her. Hermione's lips twitched when she recognized the voice as belonging to Malfoy.

"Malfoy," she greeted politely. "You have a beautiful home."

"Thanks," he murmured, amusement dancing on his face. "Where's Rowle?"

"No idea," Hermione replied, she tried to sound airy, but she couldn't quite hide the petulance in her voice.

Hermione gazed out amongst the dancers, missing the frown on Malfoy's face. It was a traditional waltz and the floor was crowded as even more people poured into the ballroom.

"Just how many people are invited to this thing?" she asked him.

Malfoy snorted, "Too bloody many." He drained his drink in one gulp and set it on the bar behind them. "Let's dance." He looked at her expectantly as he held out a hand for hers.

She pursed her lips for a moment before taking a sip of her wine and setting it on the bar. "Alright," she conceded, placing her hand in his.

The moment they cleared the crowd, he swept her along, holding her perfectly and gliding them both across the floor in time with the rest of the dancers. Hermione couldn't help but keep a lookout for Rowle over his shoulder.

"He'll be here," Malfoy said quietly. "It's the height of rudeness to stand up his courtship partner."

"How rude? One a scale of one to being able to break the courtship if he never shows?" Hermione asked, pulling her attention back to Malfoy and not the people they were whirling past.

"Well, if he only misses the one, and apologizes appropriately, then you would have no grounds to break the contract." He pursed his lips as he gazed down at her. "But you don't actually want to break the contract, do you?"

Hermione half-shrugged, and gazed over his shoulder once more. "It's not that I dislike Rowle," she began, tentatively, "it's more that I dislike the fact that I wasn't given a choice in it. He decided, and apparently you can't say no, which… come on, even you have to agree that's pretty fucked up."

Draco shrugged. "Maybe for the sensibility of a Muggle, but courting rites have been around for hundreds of years. And they were designed to protect witches."

"How?" Hermione asked, narrowing her gaze, and catching his eye once more. She could understand this if it were Muggle women, but witches didn't seem to be socialized the same way as Muggles were. But maybe she was wrong about that, too?

"Just because witches have the same power at their fingertips, doesn't mean they always feel empowered to use it. Sexism isn't just for Muggles."

"Neither is the patriarchy," Hermione muttered. Malfoy snorted at that.

The song ended then, and Malfoy led her off the dance floor and toward the group of Slytherins from school. "Can't monopolize all your time, now can I?" he murmured in her ear just as his hand slid across the small of her back and he let her go.

Hermione wanted to frown at him, but Bridgit pulled her into a conversation, and she put it out of her mind for now. As she spoke with Bridgit, she kept an eye on the door, still waiting for Rowle to show up, but the longer he took, the more her anxiety began to increase.

"I'm surprised," Bridgit said finally after they had been talking or quite a while.

"Hmm?" Hermione asked, pulling her attention from the group of wizards who had just walked in.

Bridgit shrugged, "I really expected Thorfinn to be here by now. It's… strange that he's not. I know he has been looking forward to it." She frowned then and excused herself to the bar, leaving Hermione on her own.

Hermione was now actively worried. She'd been at the ball for two hours, and Rowle was still nowhere to be seen.

"...catch the game today?" a rotund wizard said in passing. "Pride versus Tornados."

Hermione followed him and his companion discreetly. "Nasty accident out there," the witch replied.

It was all Hermione needed to hear before she was practically sprinting out of the ballroom. She hurried through the crowd, muttering excuses as she pushed her way through.

"Granger?" Malfoy said as she passed him at the entrance. She waved her hand and dashed toward the receiving room. A fireplace with a Floo pot was on the far wall of the room she had entered via Portkey, and she grabbed a fistful, shouting for St. Mungo's as she did so.

In a whirl of ash and soot, she arrived at the very crowded main waiting room of St. Mungo's. It hadn't occurred to her that it was Halloween. St. Mungo's was a mess. There were all sorts of witches and wizards with a variety of ailments, likely from failed rituals. She ducked beneath a set of very large antlers on top of a short, crying witch as she made her way to the front desk. There was a line, almost twenty people were in front of her when she joined. Her palms began to sweat, and she wiped them on her dress as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. The vague notion that something was wrong had ratcheted up the moment she stepped out of the fireplace. Rowle was here, she could feel it, and he was injured. She just needed to find out where.

By the time she arrived at the desk, she felt as frazzled as the welcome witch looked.

"Can I help you?" she asked tiredly, not even bothering to look up at Hermione.

"I'm trying to find Thorfinn Rowle. I was told he was brought here earlier," Hermione lied smoothly.

"Relationship?"

"We're, uh, courting," Hermione said, not as smoothly.

"We can only give out patient information to relatives. Courting does not count," she replied waspishly. "Next!" she shouted, not even bothering to wait for Hermione to move. The witch behind Hermione, shoved her to the side as she began explaining her problem to the welcome witch.

Hermione had never wanted to hex someone as badly as she did right then. She thought about sneaking past the welcome witch, but now that she had been turned away, the welcome witch had perked up and was clearly keeping an eye on her. She was stuck.

Pacing back and forth for a moment, Hermione considered her options. Owling Rowle was out if he was _in_ St. Mungo's, there was a very good possibility he couldn't do anything about it. She didn't know where he lived, so trying to see if he was at home was out. She could go to Sirius, but what he would be able to do, she hadn't a clue.

She was headed to the Floo to do just that when she spied a tall witch, much taller than the average witch, and she had the exact same hair color as Rowle. She looked tired and was headed toward the tea room. On a hunch, Hermione followed her, observing her as she did. She had all the carriage of a pureblood, and the more Hermione watched her, the more she was convinced this was Rowle's mother.

It was _the_ height of bad manners to approach a pureblood witch without an introduction. Hogwarts classmates notwithstanding. As a married witch and the mother of her courting partner, she was above Hermione's station. Ideally, Rowle would introduce them at some point, but the antsiness Hermione was feeling was starting to get out of control. She needed to do something.

The taller witch entered the tea room ahead of Hermione, the door closing softly after her. Taking a deep breath, Hermione followed her. They were the only ones in the room. If she was going to be unspeakably rude, she could at least do it without an audience.

"I'm _so_ sorry to interrupt," Hermione said, coming to stand next to the other witch as she poured a cup of tea. "And I know it's terribly rude to introduce myself, but I think you are Thorfinn Rowle's mother, are you not?"

Hermione gave a small bow when the taller witch finally turned her eyes to Hermione.

"I am," she said slowly.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I was told Thorfinn was here, but the welcome witch wouldn't let me pass, and—" she broke off when the Rowle's mother held up her hand.

"Say no more," the older witch said with a kind smile. "I'm familiar with the rules of St. Mungo's. I imagine you'd like to see him?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Hermione replied, some of the anxiety seeping out of her. At last, someone who could get her past the welcome witch.

"Come with me." Mrs Rowle gestured for Hermione to follow her. She was quite a bit taller and Hermione had to hurry to keep up. She didn't miss the way the welcome witch scowled at her as they strode past but ignored it. Nothing the welcome witch could do about it now. Besides, the line was even longer than it had been.

"He's up on Artefact Accidents, the fifth floor," Mrs Rowle said as they reached the lifts.

"How bad is it?" Hermione ventured to ask. Mrs Rowle bowed her head for a moment, seeming to take a steadying breath.

"The healers are hopeful," was all she said. Hermione took that to mean that the healers weren't at all hopeful. Any anxiety that had ebbed away upon finding Rowle's mother, was back, tenfold.

She could almost feel the pull to Rowle the moment they stepped off the lift. She turned left, instinctively as Mrs Rowle followed her. Hermione wasn't even thinking that she was leading Mrs Rowle when she stopped in front of a closed door.

"You have a strong bond, Miss Granger," Mrs Rowle said cryptically, opening the door and gesturing for Hermione to go inside.

Taking a breath, Hermione entered the darkened hospital room. She could see Rowle, lying very still and looking very pale on the only bed in the room.

There was a wide bandage around his head, and his face was completely blank. Not like the 'he's just sleeping' kind of blank, but more like the 'he's on the verge of death' kind of blank. She forgot all else as she rushed across the room.

"He hasn't woken up since he was hit," Mrs Rowle said, coming to stand beside her. Hermione picked up one of Rowle's large hands and wrapped both of hers around it. "The healers are unsure of how much brain damage there could be. They won't know until he wakes up."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione murmured. A hard lump formed in her throat, and her eyes stung as she blinked back tears. She bent down and placed a kiss on his knuckles, wiping the tears from her face as she stood back up.

She didn't notice when Mrs Rowle left, but after a while, Hermione climbed up into bed with Rowle. Half-lying on top of him in the small bed as she wrapped her arms around his torso. It felt wrong, not feeling his arms around her back, and she began to cry in earnest.

That vague feeling of something not being right practically bathed over her in Rowle's hospital room. It was Rowle who didn't feel right. She felt better, lying on top of him, listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, but it was still there. That feeling she couldn't quite name.

Hermione closed her eyes, reaching deep inside for the core of her magic. It was something she had quite a bit of practice with as she created new charms and spells, but she'd never done it with another person. She inhaled deeply before she pushed raw magic out of her core, in search of Rowle's. It didn't take her long to find it, it was bright, white, like hers, but bigger somehow like he was.

The moment her magic touched his, the feeling of wrongness ceased. Like a rubber band snapping, and Hermione gasped at the feeling. She kept her eyes closed, kept her mind on the task at hand until after a long moment, she fell asleep.

* * *

Thorfinn groaned as he came to. He was unbearably hot. And sweaty. Smacking his lips, he found something fuzzy in his mouth and reached a hand up to push it away. He finally opened his eyes when his hand traced the shape of a head. Granger was lying on top of him, completely asleep. Drooling even. And had his head hurt any less, he might have laughed at the sight.

The smell of antiseptics gave him his first clue about where he was. Given that the last thing he remembered was his Quidditch game against the Tornados. He closed his eyes as he thought back in an attempt to figure out what exactly had happened for him to have ended up in St Mungo's. For that was the only place he could be, given the drab hospital room surroundings.

It had been about halfway through the game that he had lost track of a bludger. He remembered spinning on his broom, looking for it when it collided with the back of his head. He winced, remembering the pain of the initial hit. Then the damned iron ball had hit him twice more before he had blessedly lost consciousness. Which likely meant he had fallen from his broom to the pitch.

The Tornadoes weren't their rivals in the league, that was reserved for Ballycastle, so a targeting hit didn't make sense, but it was strange for a bludger to hit a target more than once. He guessed it wasn't entirely outside the possibility that the Beaters from Tornado had targeted him, but it didn't make sense. If they had, they'd likely been pulled from the game. He would have to speak to his coach about it.

Opening his eyes once more, he was reminded that his soulbound witch was lying on top of him. He squinted in the semi-darkness of the room and slid his hand down her back. She was wearing a silky, dark plum-colored ball gown. _Aw, shite_, he grimaced, remembering he was meant to have accompanied her to the Malfoy Samhain ball. He had missed it entirely. And he wasn't sure how she was here now, but Sweet Salazar was he grateful for it. He had a feeling he'd be in much worse shape were she not with him.

He couldn't stop looking at her, even though she was lying on top of him and all he could see was her back and bum. She looked fucking beautiful and he was upset he'd missed her in all her glory at the ball. He groaned, as he pictured her in his mind, kicking himself for getting injured, even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

Granger shifted in her sleep, mumbling something under her breath as she turned her head to the other side, cuddling further into his chest. One of her legs had slipped between his and her hips rolled against him. His cock stirred at the movement, reminding him just how long it had been since he'd seen her last. The cuddling was helping the soulbond, but Thorfinn knew it wouldn't be enough.

As much as he was disappointed that he didn't get to see Granger in her dress, he planned to get it off her as quickly as possible as blood filled his cock.

She shifted again, moaning a bit and Thorfinn thought that maybe the soulbond was communicating to her his sudden need _for_ her.

"Granger," he murmured, a hand on the back of her head, tilting it up.

"Thorfinn?" She was sleepy-eyed and adorable. He could definitely get used to waking up next to her.

"Hey there." He grinned down at her.

"Oh, thank Merlin! Oh, my Godric!" she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and sliding her body up to straddle his waist. She pressed kiss after kiss across his face; his cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, none was spared from her attentions. When her lips landed on his for the first time, he wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled her close. A swipe of his tongue against her closed lips, and she opened, inviting him inside.

Her hips rolled, settled as perfectly as she was against his cock, he couldn't have stopped the groan even if he wanted to.

"Salazar, I want you," he muttered against her lips. He slid a hand down to the strap of her dress, pushing it off her shoulder.

"You're injured, we shouldn't," Granger began, but cut herself off with a cry as his fingers found a nipple and caressed it into a point.

"I don't care. I fucking need you," he growled, pushing her dress up over her hips as she pulled the sheet down off of him. He was in just a flimsy hospital gown that was quickly pushed aside as Hermione sank down on top of him.

"Fuck," she moaned, rolling her hips, setting a tempo that Thorfinn attempted to keep up with. His head was pounding, but Circe, it felt so fucking good to be back inside of her that he didn't dare complain as she took her pleasure.

"Let me do the work," Hermione muttered, stilling his hips with a hand placed on his chest. Thorfinn nodded, perfectly willing to let her take the lead. It wasn't just his head that was sore.

"Not going to last, little witch," he grunted after a few more grinds from Granger's hips.

"Fuck, me neither," she replied, leaning forward and placing a hand on either side of his head. The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest with every motion and it was just what he needed to reach his peak. His balls drew up and he arched his neck as he finally came. Granger cried out at the same moment, her heavenly cunt clamping down around him, drawing out his pleasure as she shuddered and finally collapsed on top of him.

The door to the room opened a moment later and Thorfinn groaned to see his mother standing there, smirking at them. He pulled the sheet over Hermione just as his mother spoke.

"Well, it seems you're feeling better," she said. Her words were sharp, but Thorfinn could hear the laughter in them.

"Oh, my Godric," Granger muttered into his chest, burying her face further.

Thorfinn chuckled, holding her to him.

"I'll get the Healer," his mother said, leaving the room again.

"Probably ought to get dressed," Thorfinn said to Hermione, his hand tangled in her hair.

"How am I supposed to look your mother in the face after this? Merlin, I had to introduce myself to her in the lobby in order to get up here!"

"She's not as angry as she sounded," Thorfinn replied. He helped her put her dress back to rights. "I'm sorry I missed this," he said, fingering the one-shoulder design, and running his hand down her arm.

Granger smiled softly at him. "I don't think you were much at fault for that."

"Still," Thorfinn said. Hermione kissed his cheek and hopped down off of the bed, just as the door opened and a Healer burst through.

"Mr Rowle, Miss Granger, awake at last." The Healer was a woman in her mid-sixties with snow-white hair and an attitude similar to McGonagall's. "I'm Healer Eldridge," she introduced as she waved her wand over Thorfinn. A bright array of runes appeared over his body. He could interpret a few, but not all. Healer Eldridge nodded though, seemingly pleased with the results.

"You next, Miss Granger," the Healer said, turning toward her.

"Me?" Granger asked, confusion written on her face.

"Yes, you. Little-miss-heal-him-on-your-own," Healer Eldridge said, waving her wand again. A similar set of runes appeared before where Granger stood. The Healer nodded sharply. "Good, you're both in excellent health, although you'll need to rest for at least two weeks with that concussion, Mr Rowle."

"Two weeks? I feel fine," he grumbled.

"Oh? No headache then?" Healer Eldridge put her hands on her hips, glaring down at him.

"A small one," he replied stubbornly.

"Listen to the Healer, Thorfinn," his mother said, sweeping into the room. "She was the one who allowed Miss Granger to stay with you, after all."

"Er, how long was I out?" Granger asked.

"Seventy-two hours," Healer Eldridge responded.

"Three bloody days?!" Hermione half-shouted. Her knees weakened, and while Thorfinn couldn't get out of bed fast enough, his mother was able to get a chair beneath her before she collapsed to the floor.

"Mm, yes, they wanted to remove you the first day, but you refused," his mother said.

"I don't remember that," Granger muttered, dropping her head into her hands.

"You wouldn't. That's what happens in a healing trance," Healer Eldridge explained.

"A what?" Thorfinn asked.

"Healing trance, they are about as common as soulbonds," the healer said.

"Yes, once I explained about the soulbond, they were fine to let Miss Granger stay," his mother replied with a smirk aimed at him.

"What soulbond?" Granger asked, finally looking up and piercing him with a sharp gaze.

_Fuck._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Two more chapters after this one!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

"Mother," Thorfinn groaned as Granger sat up straighter. She went to stand, but Healer Eldridge put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her in her chair.

"You haven't told her yet?" his mother asked sharply. The disapproval was heavy in her voice, and Thorfinn felt about two inches tall.

"I hadn't gotten around to it," he said quietly.

"You've known for months," she replied. Now it wasn't just disapproval but disappointment as well.

Healer Eldridge cleared her throat. "I think it's time for Mr Rowle to take the rest of his potions." She had just finished speaking when a mediwitch came into the room pushing a cart of potions.

Granger stood stiffly and shot him a glare as she stomped out of the room, his mother right behind her. He did not want to be on the receiving end of either of their ire, so he was fairly concerned about what sort of conversation was going to happen without him.

Healer Eldridge ran another diagnostic spell over him and began requesting various potions from the medi-witch. He took them, eyeing the door the entire time. He desperately wanted to know what was happening between his mother and Granger. He had fucked up big time, but he definitely hadn't imagined that his mother would be the one who spilled the beans. He hoped he was able to salvage any sort of relationship with Granger.

"Last one, Mr Rowle," Healer Eldridge said, shoving a light-blue potion into his hands. He downed it and handed the vial back.

"Alright, you are cleared to leave, however no Quidditch for two weeks. Not even practice," Healer Eldridge said. "I'll be owling your coach as well. Standard practice for all professional Quidditch players."

Thorfinn nodded and the moment the healer and the medi-witch left the room, he was up and scrambling into some clothes his mother had left for him. He was dressed in record time, despite the pounding in his head. Opening the door quickly, he was disappointed to only see his mother standing in the corridor.

"Ready then?"

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, looking down the corridor toward the lifts.

"Gone back to Hogwarts. She felt she had been gone long enough, although I did assure her that I had owled Headmaster Dumbledore the first night she was here."

"Fuck," he muttered as he followed his mother to the lifts. He had some major groveling to do in order to win Granger back and not suffer any soul-sickness.

* * *

He bid his mother goodbye at the Floo fireplaces and traveled by Floo back to his flat in Portree. His mother wanted him to come home to Rowle Rock, but Thorfinn wasn't interested in being babied by his mum for two weeks. He wanted to go back to work. The soulbond was appeased, but even still, he could feel it simmering beneath his skin. They hadn't nearly spent long enough together and he wanted to see Granger. But he also knew the value in letting a witch cool off before he chased her down. No, he would give it a few days before he went to Hogwarts to see her.

Deciding on a plan of action helped settle him somewhat, but he was still feeling antsy. After a quick shower to wash the smell of hospital off of him, Thorfinn grabbed his broom. Flying had always helped clear his head and settle him when he needed it. Thinking about running a few drills, he took off in the direction of the Pride Quidditch practice pitch.

The air was cold and Thorfinn found himself reveling in it as he flew toward his destination. The cold helped him clarify his thoughts. Granger knew about the soulbond now, maybe that would make her more willing to participate in the courtship. Although, he was aware of how bloody stubborn she was. She might withhold herself just to punish him. Despite the fact that it would punish her, too. He would just have to make sure she wasn't able to do that.

The team was practicing as he arrived, and he landed beside his coach, a grin on his face.

"What are you doing here, Rowle?" Coach Entwhistle asked as he blew his whistle and waved to the Chasers.

"Hoping to run some drills," Thorfinn replied.

Entwhistle snorted. "I got the owl from St Mungo's. You aren't cleared for two weeks. Go home."

"I'm feeling fine, better than fine, actually," Thorfinn protested, although he kept his voice free from the frustration he was feeling.

"Healer's orders, Rowle. We need you later this season, we can sub Jackson in for a few games while you fully recover."

"But—"

"No buts," Entwhistle growled, finally turning to Thorfinn and addressing him directly. "Another head injury within the next fortnight could leave you permanently brain-damaged. We pay you way too damned much to allow that to happen. Go. Home."

Thorfinn grumbled his entire way home, flying recklessly as he complained vociferously to his coach in his head. He was fine. Getting back on the Quidditch pitch was going to be the best thing for him, he just knew it. If only his coach wasn't so damned stubborn.

If he couldn't play Quidditch, at least he could get drunk. The moment he was back inside his flat, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the grate.

"Antonin Dolohov's flat," he growled, stepping through the bright green flames. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his Quidditch kit, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Antonin.

"Out of the hospital already?" Antonin asked, standing to greet his friend.

"Yes," Thorfinn snapped, heading toward where he knew Antonin kept his liquor.

"It's barely three in the afternoon," Antonin murmured as Thorfinn poured himself a stiff drink and swallowed it in one go.

"Can't play Quidditch for two fucking weeks. I need something to take the edge off," Thorfinn replied, pouring himself another.

"What about Granger?" Antonin said. "Surely, she could help. I'm assuming it's your soulbond that's making you act so irrational."

"I'm not being irrational," Thorfinn grunted.

"Drinking at three in the afternoon after a head injury is a little irrational," Antonin responded.

"Well, since you've become such a prude, you won't mind if I drink it all then, will you?" Thorfinn responded with a smirk.

"Pour me one, Rowle, or I'll kick your arse to the curb," Antonin responded.

Thorfinn happily complied and carried the bottle, along with two glasses to the sofa in Antonin's small sitting area. It was a leather affair that was extremely comfortable. He groaned as his body settled into the cushions.

"And you think you're well enough to play Quidditch," Antonin snorted. "I probably shouldn't be letting you get drunk, should I?"

"Pretty sure you aren't supposed to drink with a concussion," Thorfinn confirmed. "But I fucked up pretty bad and well… I know you won't really stop me." He took another sip and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He could still hear the sound of Granger's heels as she stomped out of his hospital room. It was inconceivable that a few short hours ago he was buried inside her, and now he wasn't sure he would be welcome in her company any time soon.

"What'd you do?" Antonin asked.

"Let my bloody mother clue her in to the soulbond," Thorfinn muttered. "Fucking idiot, I am."

Antonin let loose a low curse in Russian. "Yes, you've completely bollocksed that up. What's your plan there?"

"No fucking clue." Thorfinn took another drink and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "I probably should have gone after her immediately…"

"But you didn't. You always were shite with women. She knew you were hiding something from her."

"I know," Thorfinn replied quietly. He swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened.

"Have you ever seen soul sickness?" Antonin asked. Thorfinn took a deep breath, gathering himself, before turning to look at his mate.

"No. They don't last long, do they?"

Antonin growled and stood from the sofa. He crossed the room to a bookcase, searching for a particular tome. When he found it, he pulled it from the shelf and flipped through the pages. Finding the one he was searching for, he thumped it down hard in Thorfinn's lap.

Thorfinn grunted at the weight of the book and looked down at the picture in the book. It was a man, wasting away, his skin drawn and almost green-tinged. The caption under the text said: _Soulsickness, three months after last contact with his soulbound mate._

"Fuck," he grunted to himself.

"That's going to happen to you and to Granger if you don't get your head out of your arse and fix this," Antonin said darkly.

"I'm fucking aware," Thorfinn muttered, closing the book with a slam and tossing it onto the coffee table.

Antonin snorted, but Thorfinn ignored him. He would handle it with Granger. He just had to figure out how.

* * *

It only took Hermione a day of research, and a second day of construction, but finally she was happy with the final product. She had borrowed one of the Beater helmets from the Gryffindor Quidditch team to figure out what protections were currently included in Beater helmets and she was shocked to find almost none. A very minor, almost entirely worn off iron-avoidance charm and a cushioning charm. That was it. A leather skullcap with two weak charms. It infuriated her that the wizarding world was so damned lax with safety. What would the American football league give to have access to this sort of magic?

Once she knew what spells were used, then she had to figure out what was allowed to be included in uniforms for the professional leagues. Ron and Harry had been a tremendous help with that, but still, she had to be very creative with her spells. Most of the mainstream spells were banned by use in Quidditch gear, which Hermione could possibly see the point of, but there wasn't a specific ban on unpatented spells.

There was always the possibility that her creation would be banned if it were inspected, so she planned to layer her own unpatented cloaking charm over the whole thing. Making it appear to most people who checked that it was a standard helmet.

Since the mainstream spells weren't allowed, she created her own versions to enchant the new helmet she had purchased for Rowle in Quality Quidditch Supplies' Hogsmeade shop. She never wanted him to have a concussion again, and really, she planned to patent the entire helmet at some point so that no Quidditch player would have to suffer a concussion—or worse—anymore. She was very glad that he was benched for the next few weeks, which would at least prevent an additional concussion that could lead to a traumatic brain injury. Even magic couldn't cure that sort of injury.

She inspected the whole contraption again, ensuring that it looked completely normal to the most commonly used detection spells. Then she handed it to Harry and Ron.

"Check it for spells," Hermione told them.

They both did, even passing it along to Ginny, who was better at charms than either of them, and none of them could find anything other than the weak iron-avoidance and cushioning charms.

"I thought you were going to make it so that he wouldn't get a concussion again?" Ginny asked, handing the helmet back to Hermione.

"I did, but I also don't want him banned or the helmet tossed if it doesn't pass inspection by the officials. So I cloaked the whole thing, and layered those two spells on top."

"Bloody brilliant," Ron mumbled.

"You'll be making them for the whole Gryffindor team, right?" Harry asked.

Hermione laughed. "Sure. Although I plan to patent the entire helmet after I graduate. Then I'll need some help petitioning the Quidditch Professional League to get them into use by every team in the league. Honestly, it's irresponsible the way they treat their players."

"Well, this is a bloody brilliant piece of magic," Harry replied, gesturing at the helmet. "You could make your fortune off of it."

"I actually don't want to manufacture them. Let someone else handle that. They can buy the patent off of me," she replied. Ron looked thoughtful as she left them for the owlery. Now that the helmet was complete, she could send it off to Rowle to use. He wouldn't be able to use it for a few weeks yet, but she hoped he would see it as a peace offering and arrange to come to visit her.

It had only been a few days since she'd seen him last, but already that anxious edge that lingered just beneath her skin was bothering her. Next on her list was researching soulbonds.

* * *

The next month and a half were some of the hardest days of Hermione's life. Rowle hadn't bothered to contact her, and she was stuck in Hogwarts. She'd appealed to Dumbledore on more than one occasion to try and travel to Portree to see Rowle, but Dumbledore had forbidden it. Telling her that courting wasn't enough, and since neither her intended nor her guardian had requested it, his hands were tied.

_More patriarchal bullshite_, she grumbled to herself after she left his office for the second time. Rowle hadn't bothered to answer any of her owls either. At this point, she didn't know what else to do. Especially since the Hogwarts library seemed to be lacking entirely on materials related to soulbonds.

By the time the week before the Christmas holidays rolled around, Hermione was barely eating and barely sleeping. Harry and Ron managed to drag her from class to class, but she hardly participated. Her anxiety was through the roof and she was becoming downright paranoid.

Even her hair was limp and dull, it didn't matter what Ginny attempted to do with it. She avoided looking in the mirror as she was wasting away from the lack of food and sleep. If she didn't see Rowle soon, she was quite sure that she might waste away entirely. She just didn't know what else she could do.

_Leave the bloody school_, the thought drifted through her head on more than one occasion. Hermione knew that was what she would have to do, but she'd need help. No way she could make it to Portree on her own. Not with how weak both her body and her magic were.

Sirius had never heard of soulbonds. He was one of the first people Hermione had contacted, and he promised to look through the library at Grimmauld but had come up with nothing.

Three days before the Christmas holidays, Hermione couldn't even stand from the sofa in the common room to go back up to her room.

"Fuck this," Harry growled. He sprinted up the stairs to the boy's dormitory and returned moments later with two brooms in his hand and his and Ron's cloaks thrown over an arm. "Come on, Ron. We're going to Portree."

"You don't even know where he lives," Hermione protested weakly.

"We'll find him," Harry replied sharply.

"And drag his arse back here to answer for what he's done to you," Ron added darkly.

"He's probably in as bad of shape as I am," Hermione said.

"Come on," Ginny said as the boys left through a window in the common room. It was breaking about a dozen school rules, but Hermione didn't have the will to care anymore.

Ginny levered Hermione up and helped her up the stairs to the very top where her Head Girl dormitory was located.

"Will you be alright?" Ginny asked as she helped Hermione onto the bed.

"I think so," she whispered. "Better check on me in the morning, though."

"I will," Ginny promised. "Try to get some rest." She left and Hermione sighed as she closed her eyes. She knew she wouldn't actually sleep, but perhaps if she pretended long enough…

A rap at her window had her opening her eyes. They widened seeing Rowle slumped over a broom with Harry holding on tightly behind him. She flicked her wand, hoping she had enough magic to unlock the window and open it.

Thankfully, the lock clicked and Ron was able to push the window open.

"Found him just as bad off as you are," Harry grunted, confirming her earlier words. He helped Rowle off the broom with a small thud. Rowle coughed, but when his eyes locked with hers, Hermione felt a little better.

"Right then," Ron said, but Hermione barely heard him. She couldn't take her eyes off of Rowle. Just being in the same room with him was like someone had turned on the lights. What was once dull, was now bright. Without another word, Ron and Harry flew off out of the open window. Another flick of her wand, the magic came easier this time, and the window was shut and locked.

"Fuck," Rowle muttered, crawling toward where she was still propped up on the bed. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"You have to give me the details, Thorfinn. Nothing I've found tells me anything about a soulbond, and I've been looking in every damned place I can think of." She pushed her blankets aside, allowing him to climb into bed with her.

"It's—" he sighed as he finally wrapped his arms around her and for a long moment, they just held each other. Already, she was feeling better—feeling more like herself—the fog that seemed to have settled over her brain was lifting. It occurred to her she hadn't bothered to ask Malfoy about it, even though she knew he knew what it was. _Fuck_, she felt so stupid.

"I'm sorry, it's so incredibly rare. Soulbonds," Rowle finally said.

"How rare?" Hermione asked. Her head was pillowed on his chest, and she was enjoying just breathing in the scent of him.

"They're common in the Rowle line, but not many others. And by common, the last recorded soulbond was four generations ago."

"Would the Ministry have records of them?" Hermione asked as she idly traced patterns on his chest.

"Maybe," Rowle replied, tightening his arms around her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, and Hermione hummed happily. "But, frankly, they are rare enough that I wouldn't want to tell the Ministry about ours. I imagine they'll want some sort of testing or something."

"Mmm, good point," Hermione replied sleepily.

"I'm sorry for forcing you," Rowle whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"It's only forced because you tried to ignore it, you idiot," Hermione said, placing a kiss on the center of his chest. She couldn't possibly be angry right now. Not when she was feeling so bloody good. Just being here with him, holding him, was enough to make her feel like all was right in the world.

She couldn't even think of anything else as she finally slipped into a blissful sleep.

* * *

Hours later, the bright afternoon sun was streaming through her window. She'd never shut the curtains the night before. Grumbling, Hermione tried to roll over, but an arm around her waist stopped her.

"Where are you going?" Rowle grumbled into her ear. He yanked her body toward his, her back to his chest, and she gasped when she felt his cock nudge against her bum.

"You're really here?" Hermione asked, turning her head to catch his gaze.

"Seems so, little witch," he murmured just before pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Hermione tangled a hand in his hair and twisted her body to press as much of it as she could to his. Merlin, she never thought she could miss someone as much as she had missed Rowle these past few weeks.

"I'm so sorry," he said again, his lips trailing down her neck as he moved her hair out of the way. "You have no idea how truly sorry I am."

"Thorfinn," Hermione gasped when he scrambled for his wand and suddenly they were both completely naked. The feeling of his warm skin against hers was almost overwhelming. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she basked in it.

"Stay with me, little witch," he murmured against her neck. One large hand curled under her neck and around her shoulder, just long enough to reach one of her breasts. The other skimmed down her flank and over her hip.

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore, his hands wrapped around her, touching her, but she couldn't quite reach him. She attempted to twist in his arms, but he stilled her movements.

"Let me love you," he whispered against her shoulder. Hermione whimpered at the emotion in his voice and nodded. He lifted her leg over his and suddenly, his cock was slotted against her cleft.

"Please," Hermione hissed just as he thrust into her. The angle was perfect, his cock hit the front of her channel driving her toward ecstasy. She'd never felt so safe, so loved, wrapped in his arms like this.

"I'm sorry, so bloody sorry," Rowle chanted over and over as his hands roamed her body, and his cock thrust into her. "Never again," he promised.

"Forgiven," Hermione finally gasped just as she was on the cusp of her orgasm. "I forgive you, Thorfinn."

She dragged him over the edge and when they were finished, both laid there for a long moment, panting, catching their breath.

"Did you mean it?" he asked her finally, pressing another kiss between her neck and shoulder.

"Of course, I did," Hermione said, rolling in his arms to face him. "I forgive you completely. It was a mistake. A horrible one, but one we won't make again."

"Good," he muttered and pressed his lips to hers. When he had ravished her mouth as fully as he ravished her body, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. "Spend Christmas with me at Rowle Rock?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, smiling easily. "Otherwise you'd be spending it in London with me, Harry, and Sirius."

"I'd do that, for you," Rowle replied, pulling her close and tucking her head beneath his chin. Hermione sighed happily, breathing in his scent and content knowing that she'd get to spend three whole weeks in his presence.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!**
> 
> **Only one more chapter after this one!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

Hermione felt better after Rowle left the following morning. There were only two days left in the term and then she'd get a blissful three weeks with him. As much as she was looking forward to it, she was also nervous about it. She had only met his mother under the worst sort of circumstances, and the last time she had seen the woman, she'd been naked, laying on her son's chest. It certainly didn't leave the best impression.

The trip back to London was uneventful. Hermione spent the time buried in her research. She had a few spells that were really close, she just needed to find the right resources to complete them. It made her wonder what the library at Rowle Rock was like. She knew the Malfoys had the largest private library in wizarding Britain and perhaps not all old pureblood families were the same in this regard, but she hoped the Rowle's were.

She was also desperate for information on soulbonds, and if what Rowle had said was true, then they, out of anyone, would have information about them. She hoped, anyway. If not, she'd write Malfoy to see what they had on soulbonds. Malfoy knew that she was soulbound to Rowle but had refused to tell her. That begged the question of why? Was it just to torture her? Which, given Malfoy's antics when they were younger wouldn't be beyond possibility, but he'd been rather decent to her over the last year or so.

The moment she was off the train at King's Cross, Rowle had his arms wrapped around her.

"Missed you," he murmured into her hair. Hermione breathed him in, relishing his scent in a way she would never admit to anyone.

"It's only been two days," she replied, pulling back and smiling up at him.

"Two days too long," he said. "Come on, let's get your trunk and go."

Rowle Apparated them both to the windswept moor that Rowle Rock was located near. Rowle Rock turned out to be a squat tower, perched in a lake. There was a stone bridge that led to the front door and at least four floors that Hermione could see.

"Is it medieval?" Hermione asked as Rowle led her down the path toward the bridge.

"Late 1500s," he replied. "And bigger on the inside than it looks."

"Looks plenty big enough," Hermione said with a little laugh. She wondered what he would have thought of her parent's small three-bedroom on the outskirts of London. He would probably find it was absolutely minuscule. The idea of Rowle standing in her parent's sitting room brought a smile to her face. It was quickly wiped away when she recalled reality. Her parents had moved to Australia and no longer lived in London. The small house she had grown up in was long sold.

Determined to enjoy her holiday, Hermione put her parents and their choices to the back of her mind. She had three whole weeks with Rowle.

"Wait, I don't even know if you have any siblings," Hermione said just as they reached the door in a mild panic. "Or your father? Is he going to hate me?"

Rowle smirked down at her. "Probably. But since he's been in Azkaban for three years and has another twenty-two to go on his sentence? Well, I don't actually care much what he thinks." He slid a hand down to rest on the small of her back. "No siblings. It's just me and mum. And you've already met her."

"Not under the best circumstances," Hermione muttered. "And I introduced myself to her, which is so rude—"

"She was the one who recognized the soulbond," Rowle replied with a shrug and flicked his wand, opening the front door and guiding her through it. "She isn't going to be upset about it, or you, trust me."

Hermione took a deep breath. She did trust Rowle, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous. It was that sort of nonsensical anxiety that she experienced occasionally. Rowle's mother had been perfectly lovely the last time Hermione had seen her; there was no reason for her to not be kind now.

"Thorfinn, welcome home!" his mother said. She was standing in the entrance hall with a large smile on her face. "Miss Granger, welcome to Rowle Rock. I hope your stay here will be enjoyable."

"Thank you, Mrs Rowle," Hermione said as she and Thorfinn approached. "Your home is very lovely."

"You haven't even seen most of it," Rowle laughed.

"Stop it, Thorfinn," his mother scolded, pulling her son into a hug. Standing side-by-side Hermione could really see the likeness between the two. Rowle's mother was only a few inches shorter than her son and both had fair hair, though not as fair as the Malfoys. More a golden-blonde color with Viking-like builds.

"Thank you again for having me," Hermione said, glancing around the entrance hall.

"You are most welcome, Miss Granger."

"Please, call me Hermione," she replied.

"Then you must call me Estrid," Rowle's mother said with a small smile. "Show her around, Thorfinn. Dinner will be at six, as usual." With another small smile, Mrs Rowle swept up the stairs.

"Come on," Rowle said, tugging her hand forward, deeper into the house. "I have a room that I think will be your favorite."

"It better be a library," Hermione muttered under her breath. Apparently not quietly enough as Rowle tossed back his head and laughed.

Hermione felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast when she walked into Rowle's library. It was at least twice the size of the Hogwarts library and took up two levels. There were tables scattered around, as well as other small seating areas, and there was a large desk near one of the largest fireplaces Hermione had ever seen.

"Godric and I thought your family was all full of jocks," she said as she turned in a slow circle taking in all the accumulated knowledge around her. If she was going to be tied to Rowle for the rest of her life, the library went a long way in assuaging any fears she had.

Thorfinn snorted. "Just me, I'm afraid. My father wasn't much into books, but my grandfather was. And honestly, didn't Malfoy show you his library? This is nothing compared to theirs."

"Yes, but then I'd have to be in the presence of Malfoy," Hermione said, making a face.

"Good point," Rowle murmured. He circled his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on top of her head. "I showed you the best room first, but that doesn't mean you can hide away in here for three weeks."

"I'll try not to," Hermione said with a sigh. "Although, if we do have a few hours before dinner, I'd love to get myself acquainted."

Rowle laughed again, ruffling her hair and Hermione leaned back into him for a long moment. "I'll be back before dinner to rouse you," he said, kissing her cheek.

* * *

The amount of information that the Rowles had accumulated on soulbonds was staggering. The more Hermione researched, the more she discovered. Like, how members of a soulbond tended to have an increase in basically everything: power, fertility, the ability to magic-share. There were even instances of bonded soulmates being able to heal each other through grave injuries. Which made sense, considering what had happened in St. Mungo's back in October.

Hermione had definitely reached out with her magic to touch Rowle's. The resulting healing process had taken so much out of her, out of them both, they'd been dead to the world for three days. It was incredible—and slightly terrifying. What would the Ministry do if they got their hands on this kind of information? The healers at St Mungo's weren't legally allowed to share health information with the Ministry, thankfully. Otherwise, she was sure there would be some goon from the Department of Mysteries knocking on her and Rowle's doors already.

The fact that there hadn't been anyone in contact, likely meant that they were safe. For now. All of this solidified her post-Hogwarts goals. There would be no Ministry work in her future. She'd much rather continue creating spells. She knew there were consulting firms who did similar work, but she also knew that she would lose control of anything she created if she went to work for someone else. No, what she really wanted was to open her own consulting firm.

"Time's up, little witch," Rowle said from the doorway of the library, breaking through Hermione's thoughts. "Dinner's on in a few minutes, and I haven't seen you all day."

"We spend every night in your bed," Hermione commented dryly as she packed up her notes and closed the reference books in front of her.

"Mmm, yes, but I'm insatiable," Rowle responded, pulling her from her chair and wrapping his arms around her. "Besides, it's Christmas Eve, you should be enjoying yourself, not working."

"You say that as if you don't know that I actually _like_ reading and researching," she responded with a small smile.

"All work and no play makes for a dull Granger," Rowle said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Take a break, love."

"I should be mad at you," Hermione said, as she snuggled her head into his chest. "You kept this soulbond crap from me for so long. And there are so many things you didn't bother telling me that could have been very helpful prior to now."

"I'm sorry," his arms tightened around her, "I should have told you sooner, but I also wanted you to _choose_ me. I didn't want you to feel forced."

"And you think a courtship, that I basically couldn't say no to, wasn't forced?" she asked, propping her chin on his chest and looking up at him. "I'm not really mad, but I feel like I ought to be. Maybe the soulbond is helping to smooth those ruffled feathers?"

"That seems likely," Rowle replied seriously. He reached a hand up and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I really didn't want you to feel forced at all. It's not like this was what I was expecting all those months ago, either."

"I know. And knowing that definitely helps. Just, don't keep things from me again, alright?"

"Deal," he smiled down at her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Now it really is time for Christmas Eve dinner."

"Are we dressing?" Hermione asked. She'd quickly found out that the Rowle's weren't overly formal, but wearing jeans to dinner was generally frowned upon.

"Yes, we're dressing. Let's hop to it, or Mother will be upset we're late." Hermione reached her arms up to pull him down into a deeper kiss before she pushed him away and led him out of the library.

* * *

Later that evening, as Rowle was escorting her back to his room, Hermione finally asked him about the helmet she had sent.

"Never got a chance to wear it," Rowle admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "I've been benched since the accident on Halloween due to soul sickness."

"That's something we're going to need to figure out," Hermione replied. "How long can we go before suffering the effects? From my reading, it seems once couples are bound, they rarely ever spend any time apart. And while I may be over being bound to you, I'm not about to forego my NEWT year to stay nearby."

"Nor would I ask that of you," Rowle said, opening the door to his room and ushering her inside. "You may have been ready to take your NEWTs years ago, but they're still important for you to take. Won't be able to get a job without them."

Hermione huffed a small laugh as he shut the door behind them. "I may not be able to get a job I _want_ with them either."

"Let's worry about that later," Rowle said suggestively as he stalked toward her.

"Oh, did you have something else in mind for the evening?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow. Rowle swept his eyes over the deep-green robes she had worn for the evening.

"Yes, as a matter of fact." He flicked his wand and a small box appeared in his hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes at it.

"I thought we were opening presents in the morning?"

"We are," Rowle replied. "But I was hoping to do this in private, without my mother watching over my shoulder."

She lifted her eyebrow as he approached her and popped open the box. A wash of relief flowed through her when she found it wasn't a proposal, although the box looked too small to hold a traditional pureblood betrothal set. They may be stuck together, but the idea of being engaged was not something she was ready to contemplate. Instead of the ring, she half-expected was a rather ornate necklace on a long, delicate-looking silver chain. The pendant was a large moonstone surrounded by opals.

"It's been in the family for years," Rowle said as she reached a finger out to touch it. The pendant warmed beneath her finger as she touched it and she tore her eyes off of it to look up at him.

"It spoke to me when I visited the family vault. Did it warm?" Hermione nodded, frowning as she looked at it again.

"What are its properties?" she asked, placing her finger over the moonstone again. It was a slightly darker color than the opals surrounding it and almost the size of the tip of her thumb. One of the largest she had ever seen set into a piece of jewelry.

"Moonstone is for new beginnings," Rowle said. "I asked my mother about it and she mentioned that my great-grandmother was the last to wear it. She was soulbound too, which I think is why it seemed to call to me."

"It's very pretty. Moonstone is also for inner growth and strength, too," Hermione said. "And opals, I love opals," she smiled, sliding her finger around the halo of opals surrounding the large center stone.

"Opal for creativity and memory," Rowle said. "So you like it?"

"I love it," Hermione replied, beaming up at him. He returned her grin and pulled the necklace from the box. The chain was long enough, so he slipped it over her head and the pendant hung down between her breasts.

"Gorgeous," Rowle said, trailing a finger along the chain. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Thorfinn," Hermione said as she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

The kiss quickly turned heated, as they so often did and the next thing Hermione knew, Rowle had picked her up and was crossing the room toward his bed.

It seemed the insatiableness they had felt for one another at the beginning of their relationship was not going to ebb anytime soon. Even having spent a week in the same bed, Hermione wanted him as desperately as always.

* * *

Thorfinn let his hand drop as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station and began to rapidly disappear from view. He had just enough time to Apparate back to his flat in Portree and make it to practice that afternoon. Having spent three weeks with Granger, he was feeling better than he had in ages. It was almost a shock how well he was feeling. He couldn't wait to show his coaches that he was hale and hearty once more. He was itching to get back onto the Quidditch pitch.

His coaches were just as optimistic, and for the first time in months, Thorfinn was in his element. Quidditch had always provided him a means to work out his aggressions and he had months of backlog to get through. The new helmet from Granger was a godsend, despite the intensive six Bludger drills, not one came near his head. It was a brilliant piece of magic too, neither his coach nor the league inspector batted an eye during inspection.

It was a week into his practices that he could tell his performance was beginning to suffer. His reaction times had slowed and his brain felt sluggish. A week seemed like it might be the limit on how long he could be away from Granger without his performance suffering too terribly. After practice on a Friday, Rowle Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

There was a small bell-pull off to the side, as generally, unexpected visitors weren't welcome at Hogwarts. It wasn't long before Hagrid came ambling down the path toward him.

"That you, Rowle?" Hagrid asked as he reached the gates.

"Evening, Hagrid," he responded, looking up. Hagrid was one of the few people Rowle had met that was larger than him.

"I'll have to get Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said seriously, "seeing as you don't have an appointment."

"I understand," Rowle replied. "I'm fine to wait now that the wind has died down some."

Hagrid nodded and pulled a small crystal ball out of his pocket. He cupped it to his face and turned his back. Rowle could hear him mumbling, but couldn't quite make out the words. He leaned against the gate, content to wait for the Headmaster. He hoped Dumbledore was going to cooperate, but he and Hermione had discussed alternative options over the holidays in case Dumbledore wasn't cooperative. Mostly, Thorfinn thought Hermione being a Gryffindor would work in their favor. He wasn't sure if him being a Slytherin would completely cancel out Dumbledore's bias or not.

"Alright, Professor Dumbledore is on his way down," Hagrid said after a long moment. "If you don't mind, I was right in the middle of my supper…"

"Of course," Rowle replied and watched as Hagrid made his way back up the path toward his hut.

It was almost twenty minutes later before Dumbledore appeared. The crack of his apparition startled Rowle, and he jumped as the elderly wizard came into view.

"Mr Rowle, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked with barely a nod in his direction.

"I'd like permission to see Hermione Granger on a regular basis," Thorfinn said. If Dumbledore wasn't going to bother with pleasantries, neither was he. "We're courting and—"

"Courting can happen on Hogsmeade weekends," Dumbledore interrupted placidly. "I see no reason to allow special treatment for either of you."

"It's more than the courtship," Thorfinn replied, trying his best not to get frustrated. Which would be hard enough if he wasn't also fighting the soulbond.

"It doesn't matter, Mr Rowle. I cannot bend the rules for you or for Miss Granger. Have a good evening," Dumbledore said before Apparating away.

"Fuck," Thorfinn muttered to himself as he twisted away. The crack from his Apparition was considerably louder than Dumbledores.

The minute he landed in the front room of his flat, Thorfinn tore across the room and wrote out two quick letters.

It was three long days later that Thorfinn found himself back at Hogwarts. He was barely getting along in practice and his coaches were starting to note his poorer performance. He hoped Granger was faring better than he was, but judging by how terrible he felt, he thought it was likely she was just as badly off.

This time, Hagrid was waiting for him at the gates. "Rowle," the half-giant said with a nod as he swung the gate open and let Thorfinn in. "I'm assuming you can get to the Headmaster's office on your own?" Hagrid asked.

Thorfinn nodded and jogged off down the path with a slight wave of his hand. A small sense of relief rushed over him just as he stepped onto Hogwarts grounds. He was supposed to go directly to the Headmasters office, per his communication with Snape, but Thorfinn wasn't having this meeting without Granger at his side. He was ready to crawl out of his skin, he was feeling so antsy.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Thorfinn huffed his way up to the seventh floor and the Gryffindor common room. He'd never been to the Gryffindor common room but knew the portrait that guarded it.

He ignored the fat lady's screeching as he banged on the frame of her portrait, hoping someone would answer soon. A weedy looking third year poked his head out.

"Is Granger in?" Thorfinn asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The boy gulped and ducked back inside. He was going to give the boy two minutes and then he planned to bang again.

Less than thirty seconds later, Granger popped her head out of the portrait hole.

"Thorfinn!" Her eyes lit up on seeing him, tripping out of the hole and directly into his arms. "Godric, it's good to see you," she murmured, her arms looped around his neck.

"You too, little witch," he replied into her bushy hair, placing a kiss along her temple. "And as much as I would love to take this upstairs… we actually have a meeting with the Headmaster that started two minutes ago." He took a step back to look her over, noting her slightly wan appearance. As much as he hated to see it, he thought it might actually work out in their favor.

"The headmaster?"

"Yes, we're going to have to explain the soulbond to them or neither one of us is going to make it until the term ends."

Granger nodded practically. "Thank goodness, too. I've been out of sorts for several days now."

"Me too," Thorfinn replied as he led her down the stairs toward the Headmasters office. They walked in silence, just holding hands as they made their way through the corridors. Even just being in her presence was soothing to the soulbond. He felt light enough that he could skip down the corridors.

Snape was waiting for them outside of the headmaster's office with one of his fiercest scowls.

"You're late, Rowle," he muttered, giving Granger a hard glare.

"Had to pick something up on my way," Thorfinn replied with a grin. Even Snape wasn't going to bring him down.

Snape said nothing else, but whirled around, his robes flapping dramatically as he murmured the password to the gargoyle who jumped out of the way. The three of them ascended the stairs to the headmaster's office in silence.

"Mr Rowle, Miss Granger, this is a surprise," Dumbledore said upon seeing them. He waved for them to be seated at the two squashy armchairs situated before his desk. Thorfinn led Hermione over and only sat once she was seated. Then reached out and grasped her hand again. He had a feeling he was going to need all of his patience for this meeting. He could feel Snape standing behind them, trying to intimidate them he guessed, but Thorfinn hadn't been intimidated by Snape since he was a fourth year.

"What is the purpose of this meeting?" Dumbledore asked plainly. "I hope it's not a petition based on your courtship." He practically spat the word courtship and suddenly Thorfinn knew why Dumbledore had been so resistant. Dumbledore was well-known for being dismissive of pure-blood traditions.

"While petitioning based on our courtship would be within our rights," Thorfinn began, "that's not actually why we called the meeting."

"Explain," Snape said dourly.

"We have a soulbond," Thorfinn replied, he heard Snape snort behind him, but ignored his old head of house. Granger squeezed his hand and he responded back with a squeeze. He was just as concerned as she was about letting it known. Especially to someone like Dumbledore. Thorfinn didn't trust Dumbledore.

"Soulbonds aren't real," Dumbledore replied dismissively with a wave of his hand.

"They are real," Granger responded. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall shared her concerns about my behavior at the end of last term. That was due to the soulbond. If Thorfinn and I don't see each other on a weekly basis, we start to suffer from soul-sickness."

"Soul-sickness is also not real," Snape said from behind them with a heavy sigh.

"How do you know?" Granger asked. She ignored Snape and focused on Dumbledore. "No offense, sir, but how do you know soulbonds aren't real? What's your proof?"

"The Ministry would have a record of them for one," Dumbledore replied.

Thorfinn snorted. "Anyone with any modicum of intelligence wouldn't go around reporting their soulbond to the Ministry. The Ministry would want to run all sorts of invasive tests, blast their status across the wizarding world. No, if you think soulbonds aren't real based on that, you're delusional."

"Watch your tone, Rowle," Snape growled from behind them.

"Believe what you want," Granger said after a long moment. "You can either let Rowle see me on a weekly basis or vice versa and let me out of Hogwarts to see him, or I'll drop out."

Thorfinn was startled by her pronouncement and turned to see that she looked incredibly calm, and perhaps a little smug.

"You can't drop out, Miss Granger," Dumbledore stated.

"That would be a loss… and detrimental to your future," Snape added.

"If you don't let Thorfinn and I see each other, then we'll both suffer from soul-sickness and die. I'd rather be a Hogwarts dropout than die. You have no idea what it's like. If it's been too long, I can't think, can't move, can't _do_ anything. Either you agree, or I walk out of Hogwarts today."

"You wouldn't be considered an adult witch," Dumbledore warned. "The Ministry may even make you give up your wand."

Granger laughed at that. "I'd like to see them try."

Thorfinn grinned at his witch. Salazar, he loved how feisty she was. Dumbledore and Snape continued to hem and haw for a few more minutes, but once again, Granger took things into her own hands and cast a Patronus. She whispered to the small otter for a moment before it darted away, down the spiral staircase, and out of the office entirely.

"Miss Granger," Snape hissed.

"Don't worry, it's just to Madam Pomfrey. She'll be joining us momentarily," Granger replied, settling back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. Thorfinn felt his own chest swell with pride. If there was one person in the castle who would not only know what a soulbond was but would know how to detect one, it would be Madam Pomfrey. He felt like an idiot for not thinking of having her attend the meeting from the beginning. Really, he was a bit surprised at the amount of pushback Dumbledore and Snape were giving them. Yes, soulbonds were rare, but they weren't unheard of.

A few moments later, the spiral stairs were heard, slowly grinding their way upward.

"Miss Granger, Headmaster, Professor Snape, what is all this about?" Pomfrey asked.

"_They_," Snape said, spitting the word, "insist that they are soulbound and are demanding weekly visits."

"It is highly irregular," Dumbledore added.

"Well, easy enough to prove," Pomfrey said and flicked her wand in a complicated little motion.

"Oh, my…" she trailed off as a brilliant golden light infused the entire office. It stemmed from Thorfinn and Granger, wrapping them in a veritable bubble of light. Small sparks were emitted from the light, like fireworks.

"Godric," Granger whispered, waving her hand in front of her face, watching the sparks come off of her skin.

"Gorgeous," Thorfinn said, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about the physical proof of their soulbond or Granger as she looked surrounded in golden light. It brought out every color buried in her hair, her skin glowed with it. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look so alive before.

"Well," Pomfrey cleared her throat and flicked her wand again, the golden light disappearing and leaving the office feeling dingy and dark. "It appears they do have a soulbond. I imagine you'll be granting multi-weekly visitation for them?"

"Well," Dumbledore hedged.

"If you don't want either of them to suffer a serious illness, you're going to need to allow it," Pomfrey scolded. "Soul-sickness is an ugly business and deadly if not dealt with."

"I certainly hadn't—"

"It doesn't matter what you planned," Granger said, cutting the headmaster off. Dumbledore looked startled as if nobody ever bothered to interrupt him when he was speaking, which was probably the case.

"It's clear, even Madam Pomfrey agrees, you either let us see each other on a weekly basis—"

"Multi-weekly, my dear. You shouldn't go longer than three days without seeing each other to keep the bond strong," Pomfrey interrupted.

"There you have it," Thorfinn said. "We'll just use today as our first meeting this week, shall we?"

Dumbledore waved his hand, as Pomfrey started in on the men again. Granger stood quickly, grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the spiral staircase. They slipped down it while the adults were still arguing.

"Thank goodness for being Head Girl," Granger said to him as she led him back up the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room."

"You're planning to drag me through the common room?" Thorfinn asked, amused.

"They'll get over it. And get used to it," Granger replied rather smugly as she whispered the password to the portrait.

"Uh, Hermione?" The Weasley girl was the first to spot them.

"I have Dumbledore's permission," Granger said quietly.

"Woah, Rowle! You play for the Pride, can I get an autograph?" a fourth year boy that Rowle didn't know by name asked.

"Shut it, Parker," Potter said, pushing the fourth year into a nearby couch. "He's not here for autographs."

"Thanks, Harry," Granger muttered, tugging Thorfinn forward toward a set of stairs. Thorfinn worked to keep a ridiculous grin off his face as they passed through the rest of the common room. Every Gryffindor in residence was staring them down, and he had no doubt that within the hour the entire school would be informed that Head Girl Granger brought Rowle up to her private room. Dumbledore was going to have kittens over this.

The moment they were behind closed doors, Granger was on him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and had her lips pressed to his. In a swift movement, her legs were around his hips and he was carrying her to the bed.

He grunted as she pulled him down on top of her.

"Going to have to get used to the tiny school beds again," he murmured, kissing his way down her neck as she chuckled.

"You act as if we aren't wizards," she replied, pulling on the tails of his shirt. He yanked it over his head and sighed as her hands connected with the skin of his back. It felt good, this easy camaraderie they had found over the Christmas holidays.

"Don't leave me," Granger said, planting her hands on his cheeks and pulling him back into the moment.

"Never," Thorfinn promised.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story.**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**
> 
> **See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!**
> 
> **Major thanks to Fae Orabel for all of her hard work! All other mistakes are mine.**
> 
> **And major thank you to all my readers for reading! I can't believe it's finally finished!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

The rest of the school year passed similarly, with Thorfinn visiting Hermione at Hogwarts once or twice a week, and on the very rare occasion, he was able to get to the castle three times a week. It got to the point that the Gryffindors were used to seeing him, and he was no longer asked for autographs as he made his way through the common room. Dumbledore always looked as if he had been sucking on lemons on the rare occasions Thorfinn ran into him. It just made Thorfinn's inner Slytherin cackle with glee. Anything to irritate Dumbledore was a good thing in his book.

Anytime they could swing it, Hermione attended a Pride game with Antonin and Bridgit, fully decked out in the Pride gear Thorfinn had been slowly leaving in her dorm room over the months. It was slightly barbaric, but he loved seeing her in Pride colors.

The week after Hermione left Hogwarts for the last time—a week after completing the NEWTs she should have been able to take back in her fifth year—Thorfinn found himself pacing outside of Grimmauld Place.

A graduation party was taking place inside for Hermione, Potter, and Weasley. But that wasn't what had Thorfinn pacing; it was the engagement jewelry burning a hole in his pocket that had him nervous. Logically, he knew that he and Hermione were stuck with one another, whether they wanted to be or not. And Salazar did Thorfinn want to be with Hermione. It was why he had dug through the family vaults for the engagement jewelry to begin with. He was nervous that Hermione would think it was too soon, though.

The courtship that he had insisted on now felt like it was strangling him. As long as they were in a courtship, they couldn't live together. They had to be married before they could move into the same place, and Thorfinn was done only seeing Hermione a few times a week. He wanted to wake up next to her every morning; he wanted to go to bed with her each night.

"Rowle?" someone said from behind him, and he turned to see Potter standing on the stoop of Grimmauld Place. "Were you planning to come in? Or were you just going to wear a hole in the pavement?"

Thorfinn squared his shoulders and climbed the few stairs up to where Potter stood. "Just thinking about some things," he muttered as he pushed past him.

Potter stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Be good to her, yeah?"

"Don't worry," Thorfinn replied. Potter nodded and followed him inside. The house was crowded with seemingly every Gryffindor in existence and for a moment he felt totally out of his element.

But then Hermione bounded through the crowd, wearing his favorite sundress, and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and planting a kiss on his lips. Thoughts of everyone else left his mind as the soulbond between them sang.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure there was a time she'd ever been happier in her life. It wasn't that she loved parties, but this one was shaping up to be a pretty epic one. Everyone in their year had decided to attend, shocking both her and Harry to the core when the Slytherin contingent showed up led by Malfoy.

In the end, she and Malfoy had become sort of friends, often sharing a table in the library in the evenings and occasionally even debating various class topics in hushed whispers to not attract Madam Pince's attention. Once she and Thorfinn had settled with Dumbledore, the school year practically flew by, and work on her patents was easier than ever. Almost too easy in some cases, which only made her want to research soulbonds even more. It seemed like everything she did in regards to magic was easier when the soulbond was being renewed on a regular basis.

Thorfinn's arrival had only increased her good mood, and she quickly pulled him into the main party in the library on the second floor. The library was the largest room in Grimmauld Place, taking up the entire floor, and with all of the seventh years and their various dates, it was packed.

She led Thorfinn to the bar, procuring drinks for them both. It wasn't long until they were separated, drawn into different conversations, Hermione had invited Bridgit who had in turn invited Dolohov. She was hoping to speak with Bridgit about possibly partnering with her family's security firm in the near future.

After a lull in her discussion with Bridgit, Hermione gazed around the room, trying to find Thorfinn. Something niggled in the soulbond, but she wasn't quite sure what the emotion was. He wasn't hard to miss, but the room was very crowded. She found him standing almost exactly opposite from her on the far side of the room and he… didn't look happy. His shoulders were hunched up by his ears, and his face was turning an alarming shade of red. Excusing herself from Bridgit she hurried across the room to find out what on earth was going on.

Malfoy was backed into the corner, his hands up in a pleading gesture as Thorfinn spoke to him too softly for Hermione to hear until she was almost directly upon them.

"... touch her again, do you understand?" he menaced.

"I was just testing a theory. I didn't tell her. I assumed you'd tell her if you wanted her to know," Malfoy said, his voice weaselly.

_How had Thorfinn found out?_ She placed a hand on his forearm, forcing him to back down just as he was making a move toward Malfoy. She didn't miss Malfoy's flinch. Malfoy was tall and fit, but he had a classic Seeker's build, long and lithe. Thorfinn was built like a freight train, tall and all muscle. He practically towered over Hermione and had a good several inches on Malfoy.

Some of the tension seeped out of Thorfinn's frame at her touch. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Thorfinn bit out.

Malfoy looked like he was about to slide off, but Hermione turned to face him before he could make his exit.

"You were both in the wrong," she stated. "If you knew about the soulbond, or even suspected, you should have told me." She directed that statement at Malfoy. "And you already know my feelings on the subject, Thorfinn." Her words were cold as she looked up at him.

"You didn't tell me he kissed you," Thorfinn said, running his free hand through his hair, rumpling it further.

"I didn't think it was any of your business," she said crisply. "Especially, as I recall, I was still angry with you about the courtship."

"That's precisely _why_ you should have told me. If not for the soulbond, then because of the courtship. You aren't meant to be kissing other blokes while in a courtship." His gaze was stern, and Hermione could feel her anger rising.

"You mean the courtship you and Sirius forced me into?" She dropped her hand from his arm and felt her fingers curl into a fist.

Neither she nor Thorfinn noticed when Malfoy slipped away.

"How else was I to keep seeing you?" Thorfinn asked. "I'd left Hogwarts for good, I was out of ways to naturally run into you."

"By being honest about the soulbond!" She threw her hands up in the air. "That at least I would have understood."

He took a deep breath, suddenly the anger seemed to melt out of him and he looked disappointed. "You're right, I should have told you about it straight away. Please, let's not argue." He slid his hand down her arm and laced their fingers together.

That small, intimate action blew her anger away, too. "It's water under the bridge now. But no more cornering Malfoy on the kiss," she warned, poking his chest with her index finger. "He kissed me and it was truly, truly awful." She made a face and he laughed. The soulbond that had felt discordant a few moments prior was now feeling content.

* * *

Much later, after most of the party-goers had left, Hermione dragged Thorfinn through the house to her room on the third floor.

"We probably shouldn't," Hermione said, as she locked the door. "But Sirius is pissed off his arse and won't think to make a fuss until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." She turned to grin at him and stopped in her tracks.

Thorfinn had gotten down on one knee, in thorough Muggle fashion, and held out a large jewelry box. Unlike Muggles, who used a ring to propose, proper pure-bloods proposed with an entire set of jewelry. Traditionally, a tiara, earrings, necklace, and matching bracelet. The Rowles were an old family, and he had plenty of sets to choose from in the family vaults. He chose this one because it was the most understated, which he knew Hermione would appreciate.

Hermione's mouth open and closed a few times, as she stared at the closed, red velvet box.

"Hermione," Thorfinn said softly and her eyes snapped to his. "It might be too soon, it might be way sooner than you ever planned on getting engaged, and we both know how you like your plans. But I'm not asking for marriage right away, we can wait a year—or even two—however long you want, it's up to you. But I want to be engaged, not just courting, anymore. I want the world to know you chose me and I chose you. I want to be able to take every next step with you. I want to pick out houses with you, live with you, go to bed with you, wake up with you, all of the things that we can't do right now. I'm no longer content not being able to see you every moment of every day. You have become my whole world. Will you marry me?"

She gaped at him for a long moment before a slow smile transformed her face. "What about love? I don't want to marry someone who doesn't love me back."

"If you think I don't love you, little witch, you haven't been paying attention," Thorfinn growled.

"Just needed to hear you say it," she replied as she stepped forward. Thorfinn opened the box for her inspection, and she was speechless for a second time that night. He grinned at the expression on her face.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it's a yes," she replied breathlessly, her fingers running over the jewels on the tiara. The set was a mixture of Alexandrite and Aquamarine encased in gold with a few diamonds thrown in for extra sparkle.

"Good, because I want to fuck you wearing my family jewels," he said, standing swiftly and pulling out the tiara to place on her head.

She threw her head back in laughter, almost losing the tiara entirely, before catching it. "Maybe everything but the tiara," she replied, her eyes twinkling up at him.

He made quick work of draping the necklace around her pretty little neck. The center stone hung just beneath her collarbones. She pulled the small pearl earrings she had been wearing out and replaced them with the aquamarine ones from the set. Then he slipped the bracelet over her wrist.

"How do I look?" she asked, placing the tiara on her head and modeling for him. The jewels were too much for the white sundress, but Thorfinn had never seen a prettier picture in his life.

"Gorgeous," he replied and pulled her to him for a searing kiss. He made quick work of the sundress, the tiara fell to the floor, and thankfully the carpet saved it from being damaged. With a twist of her hand, Hermione sent it flying to the bureau on the far wall. He stripped down before guiding her to the bed. He sat and she straddled him, his cock was hard and long between them, and they both took in one another for a long moment, eyes roaming over the others face.

Slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, her arms draped over his shoulders. With a sigh, Thorfinn kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her, running one hand up her back to cup the nape of her neck.

She sighed his name as he bent her back over his arm and trailed kisses down her throat, heading toward her chest.

"You look better in them with nothing else on," he murmured between kisses.

She laughed lightly, but it turned into a moan when his lips found her nipple. The long slow moment would have ended there a few months ago, but now, with the declarations of love between them, it was drawn out. Thorfinn felt like he was in a dream as he twisted and laid her on her back in the bed. She looked like a princess, mussed and dripping in jewels, utterly decadent. He would worship her like this. He did worship her like this, his lips and hands everywhere.

He should implore her to be quiet, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. Not when it was his name she was sighing, moaning, screaming.

When they were finished, she curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand lazily stroking his chest. "I do love you," she said quietly. "In case that wasn't clear."

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head, pulling her close for a moment. "I love you, too," he murmured as sleep overcame them both.

* * *

The following morning, Thorfinn refused to be embarrassed as he and Hermione walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. Black was in there, a mug of coffee in front of him, and his eyes closed, rubbing his temples. The _Daily Prophet_ lay on the table in front of him, and the house-elf bustled near the stove making omelets.

"Morning, Sirius," Hermione said, bright and chipper, louder than she normally spoke. Clearly, she was still trying to annoy him.

Black glared at them both. "This breaks the rules of the courtship. _And_ you had me up half the night."

"Silencing charms work both ways. Also, I didn't want a courtship anyway and you forced me into it, remember?" she asked him sweetly. Thorfinn knew he shouldn't laugh, the courtship wouldn't have come about at all if he hadn't introduced it, but that didn't stop the snort coming from his nose.

"It's the law!" Black said loudly, glaring at them both and then winced, clearly regretting his volume immediately.

"Oh, I understand that _now_. I read all about it in that little book of yours: _Manners, Customs, and Etiquette for the Well-Bred Witch and Wizard_. Cute how you keep all that handy information from us poor Muggle-raised folks. I'm especially irritated with you because you were raised with it and still decided to keep it from us. Harry and I," she clarified glaring hard at Black. Thorfinn rested a hand on her shoulder.

"You're right," Thorfinn said to Hermione, gazing down at her fondly. "It's stupid and insular for pure-bloods to keep customs from Muggle-raised witches and wizards."

She turned to look up at him with a breathtaking smile. He couldn't help sending his own goofy grin back to her.

"You two should get a room. Somewhere else," Black mumbled into his coffee mug.

"The point stands, Sirius," Hermione said, turning back to face him.

"I don't care about that tripe and neither should you." He picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and rustled it's pages, hinting that the conversation was over.

"If you didn't care about that 'tripe' why would you make me go along with the courtship? When did you start caring about pesky things like laws?" Black was sitting at the head of the table and Hermione slid onto the bench to his left. She patted the seat next to her, and Thorfinn sat down.

"Did you read about what happens when you refuse a courtship?" Black asked, setting the paper down to look at her. "I don't think it's listed in the etiquette book but the effects are quite nasty."

"He's right about that," Thorfinn added. "The courtship is mostly my fault. Refusing one can have some awful unintended consequences. Including the inability to marry anyone. Ever."

"That's barbaric. Why wouldn't they list those in the book?" she asked, disappointed she'd been let down by her one resource through all of this.

"Because they don't expect anyone to turn them down since it's a law," Black told her. "Look, I'm sorry if I was heavy-handed. But I really don't believe in all that pure-blood etiquette crap. And if you hadn't gotten yourself involved with a pure-blood Slytherin… it wouldn't ever have mattered that I didn't teach you and Harry that shite."

"It's not just the relationship with Thorfinn," Hermione groaned. Glossing over the fact that she and Thorfinn were soulbound anyway. "It's about everything else. Like how was I supposed to know that I'm not supposed to go around introducing myself to pure-bloods? That I need to have someone make the introduction for me. It's positively Victorian, but I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't read it. Not knowing those sorts of things is only going to end up hurting my future."

"I'm telling you nobody cares about that," Black said.

Thorfinn coughed, shaking his head. Black was just wrong. Not only did it matter, some families wouldn't even correspond with someone they hadn't first been introduced to in person. He agreed with Hermione, now that he'd actually thought about it from her point of view, it was barbaric.

"Agree to disagree then," Black said through clenched teeth.

"Fine," Hermione replied just as the elf slid a plate of omelets in front of each of them. Breakfast was tense after that, but it wasn't long before he and Hermione escaped back upstairs to her room.

* * *

Their wedding at the end of summer was as low-key as Thorfinn's mother would let it be. Estrid Rowle had despaired that she wasn't getting to throw a large social event to celebrate her son, but Thorfinn and Hermione held firm. They didn't want a big event. They didn't want to draw any attention to themselves if they could help it.

Hermione had relented and taken Thorfinn's last name, hyphenated though, so she could use Granger in all her business dealings. She didn't want to have to change her LLC, further drawing attention to herself from the Ministry. She was sure that if anyone at the Ministry was paying attention—and they definitely weren't, or she felt she surely would have been approached by now—they wouldn't leave her alone with offering her jobs and wining-and-dining her. She wanted none of that.

Sure, working at the Ministry _might_ help her give some assistance to underserved populations, something she dreamed of doing, but the fact was that the wizarding world's largest employer was the Ministry. The sheer bureaucracy of it all would drive Hermione crazy, and she knew it. Better to affect as much change as she could from outside of the system, because there was no way she'd ever gain a faction large enough inside the Ministry to affect any sort of permanent change.

That was what her LLC and patents were all about, affecting change. She wouldn't get anything done if she didn't have the money to do it, so she had devised this solution back at the end of fourth year. She would create spells, open her own consultancy, charge exorbitant fees to those who could afford it, and amass her wealth in order to begin what she considered her true work.

What she hadn't counted on was marrying a wealthy pure-blood, who also had a lucrative Quidditch contract. And she certainly hadn't expected him to contribute anything to her pet project.

"What's mine is yours, love," he'd told her with a kiss on the nose the day he presented her with a key to their shared Gringotts vault. She had sat dumbfounded for a few minutes before chasing after him and showing him her thanks in such enthusiastic fashion, the way only newlyweds could.

Shortly after opening her consultancy, also named Infinity LLC, she began several partnerships. One of them with Bridgit Manklesworth's firm. She provided a sort of intrusion prevention to the new security wards the Manklesworth firm was working on, as well as to select clients for a percentage of a portion of their contract. It was extremely profitable.

The second partnership had actually surprised her. Ron had approached her about a year after opening her firm in Diagon Alley.

"Remember the Beater helmets?" Ron asked once she had invited him into her office and served tea.

"Of course." She nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

"You'd said that you didn't want to manufacture them. If nobody else has bought the rights off of you, I'd like to do so. I'd like to manufacture them, petition the leagues to use the new safety equipment, and then hopefully continue our partnership for other Quidditch gear as I think of it. Perhaps other sports as well, American Quodpot and the like."

Hermione sat back in her chair, stunned. This was more ambition than Ron had ever shown in the eight years she had known him. She found she was proud of him. After Hogwarts, he had seemed to drift, helping out with Fred and George's shop, but not finding anything permanent for himself.

She could see only one issue with his plan. "Where are you planning to get the funds for all of this?"

Ron sighed. "Fred and George have agreed to help provide some startup costs. The rest, I was hoping you could help with, in return taking what you provide plus five percent off the top of the profits."

"Let me see your numbers," Hermione said. "It'll take a lot of startup costs to get a manufacturing facility started."

"That's the beauty of working with Fred and George, actually." He pulled out a sheaf of parchment and handed it to her. "They've agreed to loan a portion of their manufacturing plant to this new venture. The goal would be, as it becomes profitable and the investors are paid off, I'll be able to move out and find my own premises."

She nodded as she looked through his business plan. She almost couldn't believe that it was done by Ron. It was very thorough, detailed, and downright conservative in its numbers estimates. Much more conservative than she would have been.

"Who helped you with this?" she asked, knowing that as bright as Ron was, writing a coherent business plan wasn't likely something in his wheelhouse.

"Bill," he replied sheepishly. "Is it any good? I thought he could really help with the numbers…"

"Oh, it's brilliant," Hermione said, finally looking up and giving him a grin. "More conservative than I would have done, but given that it was Bill who helped you, I'm not surprised. Well, I think this is a solid investment, Ron. You should focus on providing helmets to the junior Quidditch leagues and to Hogwarts, then work on petitioning the Department of Magical Games and Sports with the improved design. Did you have something in mind for the next item?"

Ron let out a breath and returned her grin. "I do, but let's focus on this first. I would like your investment to be paid off completely before we begin the next project. Here's a contract, I'm sure you'll want your solicitor to look at it. You'll note this contract is only for the Beater helmet. Once it's profitable, we can draw up a new contract that's more equitable."

"It's a deal," Hermione replied, offering her hand across the desk. Ron shook it, then grinned, and rushed around the corner of the desk, sweeping her into a huge hug.

* * *

_Seven Years Later_

Hermione paced their flat nervously. Despite working in London every day, they still lived in Portree. They had access to the Rowle townhouse in London when they wanted it, but they both preferred the quieter life that Portree offered. She was waiting for Thorfinn to get back from an away game in Montrose. He had Floo called earlier to tell her the game was over, now she just had to wait for him to walk through the door.

She hated waiting. She always had. She knew she was impatient and had no idea how she was going to survive the coming months when she was just ready for the end result to arrive. So she paced, she had a feeling she might be doing a lot of pacing in the future.

The minute the door handle turned, Hermione was across the room and yanking the door open. Thorfinn looked surprised to see her right there, but she ushered him into their small sitting room and pushed him down onto the sofa.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but suddenly words failed her. What if they weren't good at it? What if _she_ wasn't good at it? They had waited so long, and then it had seemingly taken ages, and now. Now that it had happened, she was terrified to tell him.

"Salazar, little witch, what is it?" Thorfinn asked. He snaked his hands around her waist when she paced too close and yanked her into his lap with a small yelp.

She glared at him, hitting his shoulder before softening in his embrace.

"I'm nervous," she admitted.

"About…?"

Biting her lip, she withdrew her wand and cast a spell silently at her abdomen. A soft white light emanated from the tip of her wand and sank into her stomach.

"You're…" he trailed off, his jaw hanging down in shock.

"Yes," she whispered, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. What if he didn't want it anymore? What if he wasn't ready?

She missed the slow grin that spread across his face as he wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"You brilliant witch! We're going to have a baby!" He turned her face to his and pressed his lips against hers insistently. "Fucking perfect, you are." He peppered his kisses with affirmations of his love and how happy he was and finally—finally—Hermione let herself relax. She let herself enjoy the moment. She let all the tension she had been holding melt away. The next few months weren't going to be easy, but knowing that Thorfinn was excited and on board, made her feel the same. The soulbond hummed between them, more content than it had been in years.

_ **~Fin~** _


End file.
